


A New Flame

by danceintheashes



Series: The Wolf and His kitten [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Play, Aphrodisiacs, BAMF Hermione Granger, BDSM, Background Ginny Weasley/Nymphadora Tonks - Freeform, Bondage, Breathplay, Caring Dominance, Cigars, Crying During Sex, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humiliation, Impact Play, LGBTQ Character, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Britpicked, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Implied Rape/Non-con, Past Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Remus Lupin, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Service Submission, Songfic, Vaginal Fisting, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Wedding Planning, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceintheashes/pseuds/danceintheashes
Summary: On the eve of their wedding, Remus learns Hermione's been keeping secrets again.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Original Character(s), Hermione Granger & Teddy Lupin, Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin & Nymphadora Tonks
Series: The Wolf and His kitten [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081820
Comments: 20
Kudos: 67





	1. i just need to be reminded

**Author's Note:**

> Previously titled 'but if you love someone, do you owe the sound to the wild around you?' Cover art by me and Canva. Fancasts are Engin Altan Duzyatan and Marilou Aussiloux (just picture more curls and tats). 
> 
> Will make more sense if you've read Hold You Down first.

* * *

_I'm a little scared walking with you here_   
_It's a brand new world I never knew_   
_In the strange, some comfort, too_   
_Do they know you like you need it?_   
_Can release their control_   
_Do they see what you have always known?_   
_Here, little light one, please accept my pardon_   
_I should listen, I should live for the moment_   
_So let's start again_   
_Hey, little light one, don't let up yet, I want it_   
_I can find it, I just need to be reminded_   
_Little light one_

flor, “little light one”

Monday, August 15, 2011

"Are you sure you don't want to - "

"Min, so help me, if you mention eloping one more time, I'm going to show you how well I can motivate you to give up the idea. You won't like my methods." Hermione's hair already wound around Remus's fist, and he gave a sharp warning tug to punctuate the stern sentence, drawing a breathy whimper as she nuzzled further into his lap.

"We could always keep living in sin," she whispered. His jeans muffled her voice, but the plaintive note in it suggested she was suitably chastened. And still a bundle of raw emotion. Experience had taught him when she sounded like that, the paddle wouldn't help. He preferred to use impact for pleasure rather than discipline, anyhow.

"Oh, I'm certain we'll be living sinfully no matter how many rings you wear," he teased gently, loosening his grip to comb his fingers through her chestnut curls in a tender, soothing caress.

She tilted her head to the side to glance up at him, an impish smile breaking through her pensive expression. "Promise?"

"Always. Come up here, little one."

Once she settled herself on his lap, her knees hugging his hips and her gold sundress halfway up her thighs, he took her wrist in his hand, pressing his lips to the inside, where the sleeve of her tattoo began.

"What's wrong? This isn't like you." His voice was a gentle murmur as he brushed open-mouthed kisses over the watercolor petals, lingering on her knife scars, the one from Bellatrix Lestrange just above her wrist and the others that came later and went further up her arm.

"I'm sorry, sir." She laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'm not upset with you." The words hummed against the wiry muscle of her bicep. "Concerned. A touch exasperated, perhaps. It's not the dress, is it?"

"No, although I still wish you'd let me have a little glamor," she whispered as he nipped at her shoulder, painting the flowers there with his tongue. "You're very distracting."

"Good. No glamors and no long sleeves, sweet girl. You're beautiful as you are." He hadn't allowed her even a shred of one since she left the International Wizarding Intelligence Bureau nearly two years before, though she was endlessly self-conscious about her scars. It warmed him that she'd finally come around to baring her arms a few times over the summer. His only instruction about what she wore for the ceremony had been not to hide in her wedding dress, and she'd taken it with the reticence he expected and the obedience he treasured.

"Did you guys have another row about the cake or the seating arrangements? I swear, Dora's worse this time around than when she married me. Or even when she married Gin. I can talk to her."

"No, it's not that. Ginny mellows her out. And it's sweet that they care so much about us." A gasp stole the last word as he gently bit the place where her neck met her shoulder, soothing it with his tongue. "And I hope I don't need to say this, but it's not that I'm second-guessing the restrictions, either."

He was fairly certain she wasn't wearing panties under her dress, and the unfettered heat that scorched him through his jeans as she canted her hips confirmed that guess. He loved being the only person able to dismantle her self-control, and was grateful she trusted him enough to let him, nerves and all.

"I know you're not, love." He'd grown less ashamed of his affliction in the years since his first marriage, and he was jaded enough by now not to bother getting his blood pressure up over the anti-werewolf laws. Even the reforms in the wake of the war had only managed a return to the looser restrictions of the pre-Umbridge years.

It galled Hermione for his sake that he only had the right to marry if she shared the legal obligations of his registry charms - it galled her that the Ministry forced such obligations at all. She'd spent the last year and a half putting her considerable determination and her inheritance from Harry to work expanding their support programs for his kind, but she was up against centuries of entrenched discrimination and legislative bias.

As he fluttered his tongue against her pulse, he added, "I somehow doubt it's second thoughts."

"No, master. I'm yours, I'll always be yours." She moaned as he tugged her head up to run his mouth from her chin to the hollow of her throat. The intertwining rose gold collar his lips skimmed over meant more to her than the engagement ring she wore and the wedding ring he had tucked away in the nightstand, though they both mattered to her, too. She'd never given him even the smallest reason to question her commitment or her devotion.

The bodice of her dress dipped low enough that he could nuzzle her throat and trail a path over her collarbone, down to where the crocus petals faded into a moonlit sky above her right breast. As he did, he curled a hand around her waist and stroked her through the cotton, where a gray wolf was inked around her ribcage.

"I know how you feel about attention, but you never protest this much, little one. What is it?" He laid a palm against her throat and her eyes fluttered closed.

"I can't think when you do that, sir." Another moan escaped her as she rocked herself against his hardening cock, more insistently now.

"That's the idea. You're less of a handful when you're not stuck in your head." He gave her neck a light squeeze as he grazed his teeth along the shell of her ear, enjoying the way she shuddered in his arms. "Not that I don't love your incredible brain. But I'm more fond of it when you're not using it to wall yourself off from your feelings."

"Fucking hell," she swore when he let up the pressure, a shiver rippling through her as he stroked her throat tenderly with his thumb. "Please, I need you."

"I’m aware, kitten. You're a little wildfire." He took her face in his hands and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "Are you ready to tell me or would you like me to beat it out of you? Not as a punishment, you've done nothing wrong."

She sighed and buried her face in his t-shirt, stilling her hips after a moment and melting into his powerful embrace, some of the tension leaving her petite frame. He held her in silence for a while until she turned her head, tucking it against his shoulder.

"It's not the attention. I mean, it sort of is, but it always is." She hesitated for a few minutes, then blew out a breath and said in a small voice, "I'm scared, Remus."

His arms tightened around her and he stroked her hair. "What scares you?"

"Things changing. With us. I don't want to mess this up."

"What makes you think you would ever mess anything up?" He rested his palm against her cheek, tracing her mouth with his thumb until she stopped abusing her lower lip with her teeth.

"I'm not good at this part." She wound her arm around his neck. "I wish I could be better for you."

She spoke five languages, knew how to control Fiendfyre, could kill men three times her size with her bare hands (not to mention a wand), and had a list longer than his arm - longer than he even knew - of other things she was brilliant at and fearless about. But if she couldn't fuck it, fight it, or run an Arithmancy equation on it, she often felt adrift.

And in the realm of relationships, she was quite at home - physically and emotionally - on her knees, which worked out well, since that was where he wanted her. He was the one for big romantic gestures, the one who needed to show her off in public, who didn't want her only wedding to be anything but memorable. He hadn't realized the rest of it still worried her so much - her issues with feeling confident around him and their friends and family after ten years lacking connection to anyone who knew her real identity. _Of course it fucking does._

"You know, normal people, those of us who aren't scary brilliant at everything, we make mistakes all the time. Especially with relationships. I've made plenty of mistakes with you, kitten." _Like getting complacent. Good going, you let your excitement get in the way of paying close enough attention to how she's feeling._ "But the sky hasn't fallen yet, and by some miracle, I still wake up next to you every morning."

It relieved him to see a slight quirk of her lips at his teasing. "I can't think of any mistakes you've made with me," she said with a doubtful look.

"That's because you're usually too busy trying not to come with my cock in your mouth to pay attention. You know I distract you on purpose, right?"

She cracked up laughing, pressing her mouth to his jaw. "Maybe. But you see through me. You notice everything."

"Not your imagined mistakes. I do notice that you're harder on yourself than I could ever be." He kissed her temple. "I know this scares you, but you're human, Min. There isn't a definitive textbook you can memorize on marriage. Everybody has to figure it out as they go. Even me."

"You're already good with the feelings stuff, though. And the relationship stuff."

"Not enough that I don't get nervous and worry about wanting things to be perfect for you. I don't think that'll ever go away." Her eyebrows rose. He supposed he was too adept with compartmentalizing that around her, letting his authority take the forefront. "The difference between you and me is that I accept that I'm inevitably going to screw up and I trust that you'll still love me when I do."

"I don’t doubt that you love me. I just...." She shook her head.

"You'll always be my good girl, Min. No matter what." He ran his fingertips down her back. "And the relationship and friendship thing will get easier, I promise. It's only been a couple of years, remember? Be as patient with that as you are with me tormenting you."

"I'll try." She sighed. "I'm going to show up on Sunday and be tongue-tied the entire time."

"Me, too," he admitted with a rueful shrug of one shoulder.

"Please. You're the most eloquent person I know."

"Vows and toasts require a somewhat different skillset than talking you to the precipice of an orgasm."

Her breath tickled his neck as she giggled. "You'll be amazing. You always are." She hugged him tighter. "Love you."

"I love you, too." He ran his knuckles over her cheek in a gentle caress. "Better?"

"Mm. Thank you. I wouldn't say no to a beating, though," she said, drawing a laugh from him. "But there's something I need to ask your permission for first."

"Of course, little one."

She hesitated a moment, and he glanced down to see she was chewing her lip again. She only did it when she was nervous, and usually only with him. He carded a hand through her hair. "I have to go up early. Tomorrow morning."

"Sure. I can get the rest of the week off, it's not like I'm starting any new research until we get back from Greece. And my TA can finish giving the written exams."

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, slight lines of tension around her mouth. "No, I - I need to go by myself. At least until Friday."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you yet. I promise I will when I see you on Friday." She rested her forehead against his. "I know it's a lot to ask, but it's really important to me."

There were no secrets between the two of them, not since she'd quit being a spy. And he couldn't remember sleeping apart from her for more than a night since then, either. The torn look in her eyes told him she wasn't any more eager about the secrecy and separation than he was.

"Alright."

She managed a small smile. "Just like that?"

"I mean, I'm not thrilled to sleep alone all week, but I trust you, Min." He nuzzled his nose to hers, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. "You will tell me on Friday, though, and if you're getting cold feet - "

"I'm not," she assured him. "It's not that, I promise."

"What, secret wedding preparations?"

She cocked her head in amusement. "In a way. You'll see, if all goes well." The mischief in her eyes was tempered with something else. "I'll miss you tons."

"I'm only a Portkey away, love." The standing international one he kept between the beach house in Marseille where they lived most of the year and his family's ancestral cottage in Yorkshire was one of the best investments he'd ever made, despite the number of favors he had to call in.

He kissed her more deeply this time, fisting his hand in her hair and curling his tongue around hers, holding the kiss until she canted her hips again. "Knowing Gin and Dora, Friday's going to be ridiculous, too. So if I don't get to see you for the next three or four days, we'd better make this a memorable beating."

"Mm. Yes, sir." She nipped at his bottom lip.

"Go kneel in front of the couch in the play room. I want you bare, though I don't think you have much to take off," he teased, chuckling at her blush. He let her steal another kiss before she clambered off of his lap.

When he followed her and grabbed the items he needed, her scent had mellowed, the bitter edge of anxiety giving way to the intoxicating sweetness of arousal. She gasped as he stood behind her and pulled her up on her knees by her hair, slipping a length of silk over her eyes and knotting it.

"Over my lap." He took her hand and helped her settle herself there. "Keep your legs apart."

"Yes, sir."

He ran his hands over the continuation of her tattoo - the willow tree that covered her back, the trunk running along her spine. He knew the constellations of her scars that gave texture to the ink as well as he knew the pattern of her quiet sighs and mewls. She stayed tense at first, probably trying to figure out why his hand hadn't cracked down on her ass yet, but eventually melted into relaxation. He petted her there instead.

One of the sources of her self-consciousness was her slim, muscular build, and though it made her no less attractive in his eyes, it still eased his worries to see her slight curves fill out a bit. She'd been brittle and spare two years ago, nauseated half the time from the physical and mental trauma and exhaustion. That in recent months she finished more meals, had fewer nightmares, didn't tense and reach for her wand when she woke anymore - her healing meant everything to him.

"You don't need to hold back from coming tonight." He held a finger to her lips as she started to speak. "Don't thank me yet. You're not having another orgasm until you're my wife. And I expect you to edge yourself at least three times a night, every night that we're apart."

"Yes, sir." She gave a frustrated little sigh. As his fingertips walked up her inner thigh and ghosted along her slit, she added, "If I die from need, you get the happy job of explaining it to everyone."

He snorted in amusement and slid a finger inside of her slick walls. "I may not have a mastery in it, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, Healer Granger. And it's longer than we've done before, but it's not that I'm upset with you for leaving. I intended to make you wait already, you'll just get an easier time of it now without me."

"Thank you, sir." It came out a whisper as she pressed back to his hand. He gave her a second finger, enjoying her pleading whimpers. "I still like it better when you do it. Even if you're mean."

"I know, my little nympho," he chuckled softly. "Is that what you'll be thinking about all week? Being made to beg until you cry? I know how wet that makes you."

Her response was to blush and grind herself more insistently against his hand, until her quiet moans weren't so quiet. He withdrew when she shuddered and clenched around him, and she breathed a choked little cry, the shudder taking a moment to work its way through her body.

"See? My pretty slut's dripping already," he murmured, holding his fingers to her lips. Her blush deepened and she took them in, laving them with her tongue as his rock-hard cock gave a sympathetic twitch. "There's that greedy mouth I love. Your moans sound so much better when there's something in it."

She suckled his fingers eagerly and cleaned him of her juices, and he murmured a cleansing charm as he dipped into her slit and along her ass with his other hand. When his fingertips brushed her tight entrance, she gave a shiver.

"Mm. You want this bottom filled, don't you?" As she nodded and relaxed a bit, pressing against his hand, he whispered another spell, for continuous lubrication this time. "There you go, sweet girl. Merlin, this couch will end up with flood damage at the rate you're going, and you haven't even come yet."

"Please, sir, please give me more," she begged as he took his hand from her mouth and stroked her ass with one finger.

"So polite and yet so depraved. Gets me hard, kitten." Her back bowed as he slowly gave her another digit, then picked up the speed of his thrusts once she'd adjusted. "There's a good girl, fuck my fingers." She quickly devolved into incoherent pleas and curses, flushed and breathless, coming up off his lap in her eagerness as she rocked her hips against him. "You're beautiful when you're needy like this."

The pleading cry when he withdrew this time subsided as she felt the plug press inside. "Jesus fuck, Remus."

"Shh, just relax," he murmured, stroking her back. "I know how much you want it, but don't take it too fast, it's the bigger one. I don't want to hurt you."

She trembled as she kept from forcing herself down on it, and he gave it to her slow and gentle. The silicone toy was smaller in girth than his cock, but still more intense than the glass plug he usually had her wear when he planned to keep her full for a while. By the time he made it to the widest point, her tremble had become a shudder, and as the plug slid home, she moaned helplessly. He found her clit, enjoying the way her legs spread wider as she sought more of his touch. She jerked and cried out, coming on his hand after only a couple of strokes.

He kept stroking her through the waves of her orgasm, until she tried to squirm away. He smacked her clit, and though she cursed, she immediately stilled and parted her thighs. "Legs open. I want you exposed. I want you to know I can see how much you need to have all your holes filled, how much you need me to make this pussy gush, how you love being at my mercy. I'm never going to allow you to forget that. You might give me that innocent little blush, but we both know you're a wanton slut, aren't you?"

"Y - yes, master." She spread wider when he slid two fingers into her slick heat, grinding on his hand, his words provoking a fresh wave of wetness. "Oh, God, that feels so good. Please, please don't stop."

"Oh, I'm not. I know you have more for me. Don't hold back, I want all of it." He held off giving her a third finger or stroking her clit again because he was looking forward to pushing the intensity later, but he fucked her roughly until she clamped down on him like a vice and squirted hard enough to soak through his jeans, crying his name. "That's my girl. Goddamn, little kitten, that's hot as fuck."

She shivered, going limp over his lap as he dried his hand and went back to petting her. He could sense the quick flutter of her heartbeat, but it eventually regulated, her breathing softening and slowing.

"How are you feeling, precious girl?"

"Mm. Enormously grateful that your N.E.W.T. in eloquence came with a specialization in humiliation and dirty talk."

Full-throated laughter rumbled through him. "Come here." He drew her into his arms as she curled up against him, brushing his lips to her forehead, above the blindfold. He summoned a bottle of water, downing some of it and lifting it to her mouth. "This is a marathon, you need to stay hydrated. Especially after that tsunami."

"Yes, sir." She handed it back to him once she'd finished it, nuzzling into his neck. "I adore you."

He smiled and stroked her hair. "I see it every time you look at me. And even blindfolded, I can hear it in your voice. You make me so happy, Min." She gave a soft sigh, suffused with contentment, cuddling closer. After a few minutes, he murmured, "Think you can stand?"

At her nod, he slid an arm under her knees and stood, carrying her to the St. Andrew's cross on the far wall. He held her steady as she found her feet, guiding her to stand close to the wood and covering her with his body as he cuffed her arms above her.

"Do you want the bar, little one?" he asked, brushing her hair forward over her shoulder.

"Yes, please."

He kissed the top of her head before dropping down to cuff her ankles to a spreader bar. The cross was too wide to be comfortable at her height for as long as he wanted to keep her there, and easy access would come in handy later. He dragged his hand up her leg, gently jostling the plug in her ass as she whimpered.

He moved the enormous bed to the right with a spell and chuckled when a shiver of anticipation rippled through her at the familiar sound of shifting furniture. "There's no surprising you, is there? Most people's Pavlovian response doesn't kick in until the sight or the crack, and it's rarely such giddy excitement."

"I love those, too." He retrieved his signal whip, the longest single-tail he could manage in the confines of the room, and wrapped his arms around her again, encircling her in warmth. "And most people don't have you. I fell in love with this the first time you used it on me."

"I remember. I remember how much I hoped you would," he murmured fondly against her ear, nipping it with his teeth. "Be a good girl and hold it for me."

He dragged the coiled leather up her body, unfurling it and putting the side of the flexible handle against her mouth. She pressed a kiss to it before she took it in a gentle grip with her teeth.

He dipped his head lower and brushed his lips against the silvery whipping scars that began on her shoulder, evidence of the horror she'd endured. They stretched over her back and ass, even her thighs, bisected by cane stripes and curse marks. Though she'd experienced the single-tail consensually before it, her strongest memories of it until him were the torture.

"It's still a gift and a revelation every time you trust me with this, love."

Though she couldn't respond with words, she let her head fall back against his chest, relaxing against him. He trailed his hands over her torso, cupping and stroking her breasts, running his fingertips over her hips and the tops of her thighs. He teased her with the occasional gentle touch of the leather. By the time he took it from her mouth, she was mewling. She shuddered when he wrapped his hand around her throat.

"Who do you belong to, Hermione?"

"You, master," she whispered.

No matter how often he heard it, his heart stuttered at the answer. She smiled when he said, "That's right, little one. And I'll always take care of you."

He stepped back and cracked the air a few times as she shivered, then gave her several slow licks across her ass, letting almost all of the force run itself out before it met her skin and giving her time to absorb each one. He knew what she'd be feeling - the sting that turned to warmth like the caress of a flame, both the sound and the sensation eliciting a rush of endorphins.

When he paused again to touch her, he tenderly stroked her reddened skin until quiet moans escaped her mouth.

"I love you so much, my brave girl," he murmured against her neck as he trailed kisses along her skin.

He continued like that for nearly an hour, pinking up her ass and her shoulders with the lightest of blows, taking frequent breaks to hold her and tease her, to whisper his praise and adoration. She loved taking his lash as much as he loved giving it to her, loved the sense of connection and trust, vulnerability and intimacy that came with it. It didn't surprise him to find somewhere around forty-five minutes that tears ran down her face, even as she dripped with arousal, afloat in sensation. For her, pleasure and pain and catharsis always intertwined.

On the next round, he laid into her a bit more, enough to leave light welts and bruises. Her moans turned to little cries that worked their way from her throat as her hips writhed. When he held her again, he stroked her hip and murmured, "I know, love. I know how much you need it. But I want you to keep as still as you can for me."

He loved watching her come undone, but it would make what he wanted to do next more of a risk than he'd like. She didn't speak, but she stilled herself, and he trailed his fingertips down her spine before he stepped back. He lessened the intensity to a caress for the first flicker across her inner thigh.

She gasped, then as the warmth settled into her skin, she whimpered, "Oh, God. Please - "

He answered her pleas with a second against her other thigh, then walked up both, staying clear of her center but coming close enough that the sensation would radiate and the threat of it would stoke her arousal. Moments after the eighth stroke, her cries intensified and she trembled the way she would when she came without being touched.

He was behind her seconds later, holding her close. "There's my good girl." His hand slipped between her legs, but she gave a slight shake of her head.

"I - I want to wait until you're inside of me. Please, master."

"Of course, kitten." Once he'd undressed, he carefully unbound her and rubbed her wrists and ankles, gathering her in his arms and carrying her to the bed.

When he laid her on her back, he knelt between her thighs and slipped her free of the blindfold, brushing the tears from her cheeks. Her amber eyes were laid open to the depths of her soul, and he held her gaze, kissing her tenderly, swallowing her whimpers as his cock slid through her soaked folds. She started to wind her legs around his waist, but he settled them against his shoulders instead, and she was flexible enough that he could still lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.

She gasped a litany of pleas and prayers as he breached her entrance, looping her arms around his neck. 'Vice' would be putting it lightly, with the way the plug pressed against him through her walls, and she clutched him in desperation.

"Shh, sweet girl. Just relax for me, it'll come. There's no hurry," he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. "Keep your eyes on me."

She trembled, but took a deep breath and let it out, her tension and urgency giving way enough to allow a few more inches. As he seated himself fully, her tears spilled over again. As much as she struggled to express her emotions in the rest of her life, here she never failed to give herself completely to him, and it awed him.

"There you go, little one. Is this what you needed? Did you need me deep inside?"

"Yes, please," she begged, the words turning to a ragged moan as he pulled back a few inches and rocked into her again, slow and gentle, the head of his cock nestling against her cervix. "Oh, God."

On the second thrust, she shuddered with the force of a powerful orgasm, clamping down on him almost painfully. He groaned, still giving her those tender, sweet thrusts while the waves of it flowed through her.

"My precious girl," he murmured, caressing her cheek. "This is where you belong, never forget that. No matter what changes, I'll always cherish you."

She was too far gone, beyond the ability to respond, but the light in her eyes told him she felt every word, her soft cries mixing with his own noises of pleasure as he continued to stroke the deepest parts of her. When the sensations climbed in intensity, his own self-control coming undone, he reached between them to run his thumb over her clit. She shattered, and as she drenched his cock, the clench of her walls dragged his climax from him, her name on his lips.


	2. what have i ever done to get to rely on you?

_Staring straight into a love sought for so long_   
_Different shapes than I expect_   
_Simpler still than all my dreams_   
_Settling so perfectly in front of me_   
_Lift me up when I go_   
_Wipe the sweat from my brow_   
_Losing fights on my own, I can rely on you_   
_Don't expect, no, I can't_   
_Comprehend all that I get_   
_What have I ever done, get to rely on you_

flor, “rely”

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

"I'm 51 years old, Dora. I think I've earned the right by now to decline both strippers and drunk Quidditch for stag night."

"What kind of best woman am I if I can't get the groom properly sloshed and beaten about the head with a bludger?" He could hear his ex-wife and best friend's petulance in her voice. He hadn't regretted her place in the wedding until she insisted on having an after party following their planned trip to the cigar bar. "Let's at least hit up late night at the Sanctuary."

"It's no fun without Min," he informed her. They usually went to Nox, their friend Ryan's place in Brussels, but he'd taken her to the London club a couple of times.

"You're no fun without Min," she teased. He knew her hair was going blue while she scrunched her nose at him, even through the phone. "It's not a crime to perv, Remus. Although I should warn you that half of wizarding Europe's rope bottoms are cursing her for your old-fashioned fidelity. Good thing she can handle herself in a fight."

"Fine." He gave an exasperated chuckle. "If it means I don't have to deal with lap dances and hangovers, I'll take a group trip to the Sanc. Who'll keep Teddy?" One of the reasons they'd set the date for that weekend had been the significance of the anniversary, but another had been the timing of the Hogwarts hols.

"Molly's sitting, for Bill and George, too. Says she's too old for what Gin and Min have planned for the hen thing. And Teddy's thrilled about seeing you on Saturday."

"Me, too. Sweet of Molly." At 13, Teddy was quiet and sensitive, and had kept his thoughts to himself for most of his summer visit, though he and Hermione got along well. Remus still wasn't sure what he made of all this. 

It had taken Molly a while to warm up to Hermione when she returned, but he was grateful that the Weasleys and extended clan were as close knit as ever these days. And that in the absence of her parents, whose memories had never been recovered, his slave at least had plenty of family who cared about her. 

“You seen Min this week? Tell me you're not driving her batty over decorations again."

"I'm not," Dora assured him. "She stayed over last night, said the cottage was too empty. She's fine, we worked on some wedding stuff yesterday. No stress. Cross my heart."

"Is that why she went up? She was cagey about it."

"Nice try," she shot back. "I'm not telling. I'm more afraid of her than I am of you." 

"I hate you," he grouched, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to work."

"Love you, too," she said through her laughter. "Have fun!"

* * *

At lunch, Remus stepped onto the quad outside the gothic building that housed the Defense department of Université Morgan le Fay, tugging his cell from his pocket. The late summer sun drenched the campus in warmth and humidity, and he rolled up his sleeves, wishing Hermione was around so he could talk her into a swim later. Everything around him was a reminder of her.

"Pinky's porno palace!" Cesare's jovial baritone filtered through the speaker, replete with his usual grin.

He shook his head in amusement. "I need a favor."

"All wishes and fantasies are granted at Pinky's, kind sir. What's your pleasure?"

"Thank Merlin you're as ridiculous as Dora. I need your help wrangling Friday. She told me she'd settle for heading to the Sanc when we leave the bar, but I just barely talked her down from drunk Quidditch and strippers. I don't trust her to make it a quiet night at the dungeon."

A familiar burst of melodic laughter drowned out Cesare's response.

"Oh, hell, Min's with you? You could've warned me I was on speaker."

"I came up early to be her emotional support dominant. Don't worry, you can have her back as soon as she's done with - " He cut off with a strangled sound, followed by mumbling.

"Goddammit, Ces!" Hermione admonished sharply. "I said top secret! I know you're rusty this long out of the game, but at least _pretend_ you're a Master Occlumens."

Cesare cracked up laughing, muffled at first and then clear, like she was covering his mouth. Her old mind magic trainer as well as her mentor in the lifestyle, he'd been one of the only close connections she'd had in her years at the Bureau.

"Relax, cara, I'm just screwing with you. I'll be glad when this week is over, I like you better when you're not so high-strung and bossy. Anyway, I'm making her eat and go to bed at a decent hour. And ensuring she doesn't kill anyone."

"Thanks, man. That makes me feel better, at least. Min, you'd better behave."

"Yes, sir!" she called back. "I'm jealous. Dora says going together defeats the purpose, but I like the cigar bar. And the dungeon. And it's okay with me if you get a lap dance."

"I know." Somewhere in the last year her shyness had dissipated enough that she didn't panic about playing in public anymore. She'd never say a word against him scening with others or going to a strip club, but he knew it made her happy that he was entirely hers. And he wouldn't enjoy it, anyway. "We'll go for your birthday. It won't be as much fun without you there to serve me. What are you guys doing?"

"I agreed to Gin's spa trip in exchange for getting to bury Ron at Muggle paintball. We're stealing Neville, George, and Charlie. You guys can keep Bill and Arthur, but you should send them home after cigars. Gotta say, paintball won't be as much fun as strippers, though," she teased with mock disappointment.

"There will be no strippers," Remus said sternly. "Cesare will make sure there are no strippers. Right, Cesare?"

"I did say all wishes and fantasies. Most of the time the fantasies are the other way around, but as a man of exquisite taste, I share your desire not to spend Friday night in a topless bar or playing drinking games."

"But you love drinking,” Min chimed in.

"I like to be able to taste my cognac, cara, not be so sloshed that I don't give a damn whether it’s Firewhisky. And the closest I'll ever get to a bludger is a club seat."

He heard her plant a wet kiss on the man's cheek. "I love you, you incorrigible snob."

"I'm glad we're on the same page. And Min, make sure you get Ron a bruise salve. Can't have him looking too beat up on Sunday." They'd gone nontraditional on both sides, with Ginny as her maid of honor and Ron as her bridesman. He took the jokes with more grace than Remus expected, and he was glad they'd repaired their relationship after Ron's anger over her disappearance.

"Yes, sir. No lasting injuries, promise. I'll keep some sober-up on hand for you, too."

"You're very amusing, kitten."

"I try." He caught the frantic rustle of parchment and her 'business Hermione' tone kicked in. "Fuck me. We're going to be late getting back."

"We've got a half hour!" Cesare protested.

"Early is on time," she said, the anxiety in her voice stoking Remus's curiosity about whatever she was hiding, along with his concern. "Love you, master."

"Love you, too, sweet girl." At least she wouldn't be able to keep too late of hours with someone watching over her.

* * *

Remus felt a flicker of relief when his phone rang Wednesday night, and he tossed his quill aside, sitting back on the couch in their living room in Marseille. "Hi, kitten."

"Hello, sir," Hermione said, exhaling a relieved sigh, like she'd been waiting to hear his voice for hours. "A few text messages isn't enough."

"No, it's not," he agreed. He'd certainly been waiting to hear hers. "You feeling okay? You sound exhausted."

"Mm. It's been a long day. Tomorrow's going to suck, too. But it'll be worth it, I promise. I'm hanging in there. What are you up to?"

"Finishing up the marking for summer term. Hey, want to do me a favor?"

"Ooh. Yes, please." The strain in her voice gave way to an enthusiasm that brought a smile to his face.

"Be my guest lecturer for mind magic next month? It's only a couple hours of intro, we've got advanced tutoring for those who want to pursue it."

"Of course. If you'll give me permission to Occlude for it, I'll rope Ces in and we can do a practical demonstration of what heavy impact play on the brain looks like," she added with a glimmer of amusement. "Can’t be taught in a group, but he used to use this spell to project sessions so we could pick apart examples.”

He laughed. "Alright, if it’s not too much stress on you. You might even get them to pay attention."

"You're a good teacher, Remus."

"That's a subjective, if sweet, assessment. And it's not a commentary on me, it's just that my students are usually too hungover from the weekend to care about learning how to defend themselves from things they don't believe they'll ever face."

"I wonder what that's like, thinking you're invincible."

"Yeah." His heart ached at the memories. Long before the Bureau, she'd had to learn how to be ruthless in order to protect her parents, and she endured more than her fair share of pain and grief in the war. He had his own scars, too. "I don't begrudge them it, it's a good thing to be at peace. But it wouldn't hurt if you could get through with a little reality. I've tried channeling Mad-Eye, even, but it goes in one ear and out the other, especially with the ones who grew up on the continent."

"Be scary, but not terrifying," she quipped. "Got it."

"That's my girl," he said with a smile. "Do you have a silencing charm up?"

"No, I'm at home. It felt too weird to touch myself when I was staying with Gin and Dora. I did last night, though."

"Good girl." The little sigh she gave him brought to mind the way her face always softened as his praise washed over her.

"I asked Ces to stay over, he's downstairs in the guest. I didn't want you to worry about me being alone."

"I'm glad. Do you want me to come to you?"

Her hesitation made him frown. "No, it's okay."

"Are you sure, Min?"

"Yes. I've had such a day, I'll take one look at you and pour my heart out. And I really want this to be a surprise. I never get to surprise you." A slight smile colored her voice, but it was rough with emotion.

"You do, little one. You just don't realize it." He shoved the pile of exams from the couch onto the coffee table and stretched out. "Are you bare?" At her confirmation, he said, "Good. You'd better spread those legs for me. I want our sheets wet when I'm done with you."

"How is it you can turn me on so much with a simple instruction? It won't take long."

"Oh? Have you been missing me that much, little kitten?" he teased. "What were you thinking about?"

"Monday night. Thank you for letting me keep my marks," she whispered. "But now I'm picturing you wrapping your hand around your cock. I never get to see that, unless you give in when I beg you to come on my face."

"I know you love that, don't you? Taking it like a good little cumslut?" As she gave a pleading moan, he added, "Fingers on your clit."

"That's dangerous, sir." There was a pained note to her soft whimpers. Edging her with his fingers inside of her was enjoyable, but as sensitive as she was, edging her clit without sending her over was more of a challenge.

"It is, but you love pleasing me. You'll manage. Besides, we both know you didn't call me because you wanted me to be nice." He chuckled as he freed his cock from his trousers. "Those sounds you're making are going straight to my cock. And I'm stroking it for you, kitten."

"Thank you, sir," she said in a strained murmur. "Fucking hell. I want to taste you so badly."

"You always do, love. You look so pretty on your knees with my cock in your mouth, especially when you're coming." He caught a strangled whimper and the thump of her hand hitting the bed in frustration and growled, his shaft twitching in his fist. _Right on time_. "So close already, little one?"

"Yes, sir," she gasped. "Goddammit."

"Shh, just catch your breath and calm down for a moment. Touch your breasts for me, and your thighs. Are you wetting the sheets yet?"

"Yes. That isn't helping me calm down."

His lips quirked. "It'll be enough. As much as I'd love to take my time with you, you need to get to sleep soon."

"Then I'll be one day closer to seeing you.” It was a hopeful whisper.

"That's the idea. Stroke your clit for me again, precious girl." His own moans mixed with hers. He loved how she flowed between sweetness and adoration and depravity so easily, so eagerly. Even torment was a love language between them. "I'm dripping, too, though I can't manage your waterworks. Wish you were here to lap it up."

"Me, too, sir." Soft panting broke up her words. "I want you to fuck my face. I love the way your hands feel in my hair, and the way you look at me when you do that."

"Like I'm in complete awe?"

"Mm. It's a lovely juxtaposition to what comes out of your mouth. God, I'm aching for you."

"I know you are, but you're not incoherent enough yet." _Trust Hermione Granger to manage five-syllable words while losing her mind with need._ "If you're a very, very good girl, I'll let you suck my cock and take my come wherever you want when I see you. Do you think you'll be able to do that without breaking any rules?"

"Jesus fucking Christ." Her moan was more like a shuddered sob, muffled for a moment as if she'd pressed her face to the pillows. "Yes. P - please, sir. I'll be good, I promise."

"Was that two, kitten?"

"Mhm. I kept my legs open."

"Such an obedient slave I have. Now I want you to fuck yourself. Gently, like I would. Pull your knees up so you can go deeper, love." He loosened his grip on his cock as he listened to her breathing slow. He was pretty sure she thought being her master was all orgasms whenever he felt like it, but he planned to hold off at least until he saw her. He could tell when she got brave enough to slide her fingers inside her slick heat. "You _are_ dripping, aren't you? I can hear it."

"Yes.” Quiet, pleading noises worked their way from her throat. "I - I'm trying a third finger. I can't stop thinking about Monday. Felt so good, how deep you were. So full of you."

"I loved it, too," he whispered. The thought of what else she might like tickled at the back of his mind. "You're floating, aren't you? Your voice always changes. Just go slow, little one." There was only the wet sound of her and her moans and whimpers. "You're so beautiful. Sometimes I look at you and I forget how to breathe. You're a continuous surprise, how freely you give yourself to me."

She breathed a choked little cry of frustration after a few more moments as she stopped, but the way her breath continued to stutter told him there were tears running down her cheeks. He ached to hold her.

"Are you alright, Min?"

"Sorry." She sniffled and cleared her throat. "I'm okay. I just miss you, and I'm so tired. But stay there, please. Don't come up 'til 10 or so on Friday, okay? I'll be here."

"I miss you, too, my precious girl. If you want me before then, all you have to do is ask. What time is Gin stealing you on Friday?"

"Around 3, I think." Her voice was still shaky, and it took all of his self-control not to go get the figurine that held the Portkey.

"I get you all to myself from 10 to 3, then. And for Saturday morning. No protests."

"'Kay," she murmured drowsily. "Love you, Remus."

"I love you, too. Sweet dreams."

It took him much longer to fall into a restless sleep without her.

* * *

"You're punctual.” Cesare looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch as Remus entered the cottage's living room on Friday morning. The Portkey deposited him in the garden, since Hermione insisted on strong wards for the house. "Counting the seconds?"

"You caught me." Remus dropped his overnight bag in an armchair. He'd only gotten a few terse texts yesterday, and that along with the way she’d sounded Wednesday night left him on edge. "Where is she?"

"Still sleeping. Don't wake her yet, she needs it. I sent her to bed around 10, but your girl's had a hell of a week." He ran a hand over his salt and pepper goatee and took his feet off of the coffee table, sitting up to pour a finger of liquor and hand it to Remus. Cesare considered every time of day appropriate for a drink except the few hours before a scene, though he rarely got tipsy, let alone drunk.

He sighed and took a seat on the couch. "Thanks for being here, I would have been more of a basket case if she'd been alone. How's Jacob?"

"Anytime." The portly Italian man's smile was warm. "And he's good, he'll be up in time for tonight. Volunteered to be our bitch for the cigar bar to get out of paintball. You should have heard the squeak when Min tried to talk him into it and explained the mechanics. He loves her to bits, but she still scares him shitless."

"I find that relatable. I'm bummed to miss the chance to see her in action. We haven't sparred in a while with all the wedding stuff going on." He took a swallow of the amber liquid. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I know she asked you to give her away months ago, but you haven't given me the overprotective father with a Beater's bat routine since the morning you arranged our first date. Not once in two years."

Cesare smirked. "Don't think she ever told you, but when she came to see me after your run-in with her on that job, she had to talk me off a ledge. I was ready to make you hurt for putting her in danger. She swore you hadn't tracked her down on purpose."

"I still owe you everything for telling her not to walk away back then, and you and Ryan for even hooking us up in the first place. But knowing you, I'd have expected some ribbing to my face by now."

"That woman's happiness is one of the few things I don't joke about. And she might be wearing the collar, but you worship the ground she walks on." For once, he was entirely serious, his dark eyes holding Remus's green ones. "I don't need to give you the 'if you hurt her, I'll end you' speech. What I'd do to you would be highly creative and unpleasant, believe me, but it's nothing compared to what you'd do to yourself."

"You're not wrong," Remus said, his mouth curving into a small smile. "It means a lot to me that you trust me. I know how important you are to her."

"I'm just glad she was able to bring the two parts of her life together, despite all the necessary secrecy." Cesare touched his arm briefly, returning the smile. "I'm guessing you didn't read the Prophet today."

The non-sequitur puzzled him. "We only set it for Sundays when they added international delivery. I usually catch up at work if something important's going on." His brow furrowed. "If Skeeter's after Min again - "

"No, no, nothing like that." Cesare's smile broadened. "Here. I’m sure you're dying of suspense, and if you find out from an owl or a text message before she wakes up, she'll be pissed at me. She just wanted to make sure it was set in stone before anybody spilled. They gave her a tough fight."

Remus took the rolled-up paper, unfolding it to see a headline in the Good News section reading 'LANDMARK WEREWOLF RIGHTS LEGISLATION PASSES' above Ginny's byline. A moving photograph of an impassioned Hermione standing on the floor of the Wizengamot in full robes split the page. She was looking away from the camera as she gestured to make a point. He shot Cesare an incredulous glance, but the other man just motioned to him to keep reading.

* * *

LONDON — The Wizengamot sent down an historic legislative ruling this morning in the area of creature rights. After a number of delays due to private lobbying against the proposed changes, a tense two-day hearing culminated in the passage of the Remus J. Lupin Werewolf Rights Act.

The Act is named in honor of the high-ranking member of the Order of the Phoenix who fought valiantly in the First and Second Wizarding Wars. It marks the first major change to such legislation since the 1993 Anti-Werewolf Act, repealed in 1998. At that time, the Ministry reverted to the laws implemented upon invention of the Wolfsbane Potion and laid out in the 1980 Werewolf Registration Reform Act. Though less restrictive, the older rules still curbed many freedoms, including preventing werewolves from holding key posts or living in certain areas and requiring spouses to take on legal responsibility for them. [continued in Politics, p. 9]

[LEGISLATION continued from Good News, p. 1] Drafted and argued by Healer and Potions Mistress Hermione Granger, the Lupin Act repeals all marriage, employment, and housing restrictions on registered werewolves who maintain potion compliance. The Wizengamot declined to endorse her provision for full legal protection from discrimination, allowing leeway for landlords and private businesses to skirt the measure. However, the Ministry has approved her proposal to diversify the Creature Justice Fund to include grants for housing assistance, medical care, education, and vocational training. Additional funds will be made available to businesses and workers for expenses associated with full moon leave.

The endowment fund was established last year by Healer Granger and Auror Ronald Weasley, both celebrated war heroes, through the inheritance left to them by their beloved friend Harry Potter. Its programs are administered by the Ministry with the oversight of an advisory board, and it currently underwrites the distribution of free Wolfsbane, along with several House-elf welfare initiatives. The board welcomes donations to bolster the expansion of its vital work.

Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt released a statement this morning in support of the legislation and the new programs, acknowledging that the changes are long overdue and adding, "They are an honor to the memory of the Boy Who Lived, who sacrificed so that we all could live freely, and to the creatures known and unknown who fought alongside him." He announced that the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures will now be known as the Department for the Welfare of Magical Creatures. They will shut down the Werewolf Capture Unit and abolish the practice of classifying creatures as being, beast, or spirit by day's end.

Healer Granger, who returned to fame last year with her publication of the most significant improvement to the Wolfsbane formula since its invention, commented only to echo that the changes were overdue and to name the late Severus Snape as a key force in the research breakthrough. She and Professor Lupin are set to wed this Sunday in a private ceremony, joined by their family and friends. Monday's edition of the Prophet will cover the happy event.

* * *

Remus's mouth opened and closed a few times while the rest of him tried to catch up.

"Remus?" Hermione's quiet, drowsy voice filtered from the doorway. He looked up to see her in one of his t-shirts that fell to her knees, her hair wild from sleep. She gave a kittenish yawn, stretching her arms over her head. "When did you get here?"

"Buongiorno, my little ray of sunshine," Cesare said cheerily, glancing between them and getting up from the couch. "I'm supposed to be at Ginny and Dora's for party planning. I'll see you two later."

"'Kay." Her expression suggested she knew he was using it as an excuse, but she just hugged him and said, "Thanks for staying with me."

"My pleasure, cara. Be good." He dropped a kiss in her hair.

When he left, Hermione made her way over and stood in front of the couch, casting Remus a hesitant look. "I probably should have asked you about naming it after you.” When she wrapped her arms around herself and caught her bottom lip with her teeth, he found a few of his wits and pulled her down to sit in his lap, burying his face in her curls as he hugged her close.

After several minutes, she ran her fingers through his hair. He hadn't even realized he was crying until he lifted his head and she brushed the tears from his cheeks, resting her forehead against his.

"I don't know what to say, Min."

"You don't need to say anything," she said with a soft smile. "I can see it on your face."

"How did you even - " He shook his head in disbelief. "I never imagined I'd live to see this."

"While I was gone, I worked on the Wolfsbane whenever I could. I've always wanted to make it more accessible so they'd have fewer excuses to prop up their bullshit - for your sake, but for everyone else, too. Just took you giving me Snape's notes to finish putting the pieces together." Her lips quirked. "I drafted the legislation months ago. Warned Kingsley after the last delay that I'd personally threaten every member of the Wizengamot if he didn't make them get it on the docket before the wedding."

She cupped his cheek and gave him a chaste, tender kiss. Her whiskey eyes held his gaze when she spoke again. "You say it doesn't bother you as much anymore, and maybe you don't get angry about it, but I know it still hurts. It's a constant reminder that they see you as a second-class citizen, no matter what you've done for them. And I can't change other people's opinions, but I can at least make it so they have less sway over your life. It's far from enough, and leagues from what you deserve. But it's a start."

"It's everything, precious girl. I mean that." He took her face in his hands and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Talk about surprises. It's going to take me a minute to wrap my mind around this."

She nuzzled into his neck and whispered, "I know how you feel about taking care of me, and I know I worried you, but thank you for letting me fight this one for you, sir."

"Thank you for fighting it. I'm so proud of you, Hermione. And so grateful." He carded one hand through her hair and let her twine his other hand with hers. "This old, decrepit heart can't handle anymore shock, though. Next time I want to be by your side."

"Remus, you have the biggest, strongest heart of anyone I know, and those diagnosis spells I cast after the full when you're too tired to grouch about it agree with me." Privately, he thought she beat him to the top of the list. She breathed a mischievous giggle. "I might have one or two other things up my sleeve for Sunday. I promise they're not so coronary-inducing. And I won't break under torment, so you'll just have to wait."

He chuckled. "You're a gift, little one. I adore you."

"It’s mutual, sir." Lifting her head, she reached across him to grab the paper. "What'd they write? Gin showed me her draft last night, she had to pull some strings to get moved off sports for the week. But - oh, yep, they definitely took out her colorful assessment of the Wizengamot, and the part about how you fought valiantly to save everyone's sorry asses and got shafted for your trouble."

Remus barked a laugh, but Hermione's face didn't budge. "Wait, she seriously wrote that?"

"Hey, can't blame her for telling the truth.” She shrugged, the hint of a bitter edge in her voice. "They edited in the war hero comment. And Kingsley's publicist definitely touched his statement, he knows I'd smack him for that 'Boy Who Lived' garbage. At least they didn't go on their usual spiel about how life sucked for a bit but Harry died to save the world and we all lived happily ever after. Could be worse."

She hated attention for her role in the war, and though she wouldn’t admit it, she was fiercely protective of Harry's memory. It bothered her that public talk was so sanitized, that people who hadn't been in the thick of it went on about noble sacrifices when so many had privately supported Riddle or sat on the fence and stonewalled the Order. And she despised the historical revisionism that ignored how a generation of children had been forced to become soldiers, how he'd lived in poverty and Sirius and Snape had been reviled. He understood people's need to avoid facing the hard truths, but he couldn't fault her complaints.

"I think that's the most charitable thing I've ever heard you say about a Prophet article." He tapped her nose. "Which is good, because it's definitely getting framed and put somewhere."

"Ugh, fine." She made a face.

He sealed his lips to hers until her features softened and she took his tongue in her mouth, caressing it with her own. When he broke the kiss, she nuzzled her nose to his, a pretty flush coloring her creamy skin.

"Up with you, kitten," he grinned. "You're going to make me tea and then I'm going to carry you upstairs so I can hold you and kiss every inch of you until I have to let you go again."


	3. will you show me what it is that makes you so extraordinarily beautiful?

_I can see what you love, who you are_   
_I can see how you run for the stars_   
_All that energy that's flowing through your veins_   
_Is it your blood to blame?_   
_Oh, will you show me what it is_   
_That makes you so extraordinarily beautiful?_   
_So, where do you go?_   
_I wanna follow you down, down_   
_Down where your secrets hide_   
_Won't you let me inside?_

flor, “where do you go”

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Remus showered in the downstairs bath to avoid waking Hermione when he made it back from the club. He watched her for a moment, naked and curled around a pillow, her dark hair fanning out and a blanket draping her hips.

As he slid in behind her, he scented her arousal on the sheets from where she'd followed his instructions before she fell asleep. She stirred, snuggling into him and murmuring, "What time is it?"

"One. When did you go to bed, sweet girl?" He wrapped his arms around her, fitting her flush against his torso and trailing his fingertips down her arm.

"Couple hours ago." A yawn stole the end of the phrase. "Have fun?"

He pressed his lips to her shoulder. "Missed you. But it was good, there were a few suspension scenes you would have liked. Ryan sends love. And apparently Ces and Dora have a play thing going now, she ended up over his knee."

Hermione giggled. "Guess that explains how she went from 'Tonks' to 'Dora' so fast. Must have taken your request to wrangle her more seriously than I thought. He's got a thing for brat taming."

"Seems like." Ginny and Dora were open when it came to that, but she liked to top more than she liked to bottom, so it was an interesting turn of events. "What about you?"

"Got a manicure, skipped the massage, kicked some ass." She shivered as Remus trailed kisses up the side of her neck. "We did capture the flag, boys against girls, Luna and Fleur cheered. Neville's a sweetheart, but he can't aim for shit, so that played in our favor. Angelina totally shredded George. Sam's a decent shot, but she went too easy on Ron."

"Don't be cross with her, loyalty's not such a terrible thing.” He chuckled and nipped her ear. "Speaking as someone who regularly gets his ass handed to him in the cage by his girl."

"You like it, don't lie." He could hear the grin in her voice.

"Oh, I love it. I'd win more often if you weren't so damn cute when you're vicious. Love it when we duel, too." Another yawn swallowed her response and he brushed her hair back from her face, kissing the top of her head. "Shh. Get some rest, little one. You're still recovering from this week, and you spent the evening running around."

"'Kay. Love you." She pulled his arm more tightly around her. "Don't let me go."

* * *

The joyful expression on Hermione’s face when she woke to Remus holding her kept him warm all day. She usually slept a couple of hours later than he did, but she loved getting to wake up in his arms on the occasion that she could, so he quietly crawled back into bed after making his ablutions.

Saturday morning was as lazy as the one before; he was content just to be near her, and even when they went downstairs for breakfast, he pulled her into his lap. Soon enough, though, the house was overrun - their motley crew of wedding planners setting up the garden with a platform for the rehearsal dinner and reception and decorating the spot by the cherry trees for the ceremony. Ginny commandeered the first floor hallway for the bridal party to get ready the next day.

His attempts to help outside were soundly rebuffed, so after chatting with Dora a while, he came back in to find Hermione and Teddy sitting on opposite sides of a wizard’s chessboard in the library.

"Oh, thank God," she said with a look of utter relief when she spotted him. "Please take over for me. You know I hate losing, and I always lose."

He gave a rumbling chuckle as Teddy whined, "No fair, Min. Dad'll obliterate me."

"Nonsense. I have so much faith in you, my dude, you have no idea." The words were teasing but heartfelt, and she pecked Remus's cheek as she abandoned her chair to him, ruffling Teddy's turquoise hair. She leaned close and stage whispered, "Just act confident and look mean, it's how I always beat him when we spar. Wolves can smell fear."

Remus cringed as he glanced at the board. "You left me a mess, woman. Godric's teeth, how are you so good at strategy and Arithmancy but still so terrible at this game? I know Harry and Ron taught you better than this."

"Never cared enough to pay attention to which direction the pieces are supposed to go." She shot him an impish grin and shrugged one shoulder. "The destruction's my favorite part."

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Right, now that we've established how much I suck, I have people to bother. You two have fun!" She gave his son a quick squeeze and tossed him a little wave.

"Maybe I should have asked her for sparring lessons instead of guitar lessons," Teddy said as he moved one of his pawns. "The whole 'act confident and look mean' thing isn't really in my range."

"Oh, I can't take her mean face seriously. She wins because she's better at it and she's had more practice." Remus stroked his beard, trying to figure a way out of the train wreck she left him. "And you're brilliant, pretty soon you'll be kicking my butt at this. Especially if you keep up with chess club."

"She promised she'd tutor me in Arithmancy, so that'll help, I hope."

"I'll never win again," he said with a mock long-suffering sigh as he settled on a strategy. "How're you managing with all of this? It's been a chaotic summer. We haven't talked much about things, and you didn't get to stay with us for as long this year. I don't want you to feel like - "

"Dad, you don't need to give me the 'you're not being replaced' speech." Teddy interrupted his nervous chatter with a smile that reached his eyes. "I'm happy for you. And I'm fine."

"That means a lot to me. But it's still quite a change."

"Sarah Abbott's parents divorced this year, she's devastated. They don't get along." He shrugged. "All I can think about when she talks about it - aside from being sad for her - is that I'm lucky you and mum are friends. As long as I can remember, I've had two mums and a dad, and you've never not been there for me, even if you live somewhere else. Besides, mum's so happy with Ginny, and you haven't had anyone that makes you happy like that."

It was the most he'd talked about his feelings in a while, and Remus looked up from the board, the game forgotten for a moment. "You've got the biggest heart, you know that? I'm lucky to be your dad."

"I'm lucky, too," Teddy said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "And it's not as though Min's hard to like. She writes to me once or twice a week when I'm at school, sends me books and stuff. Tells me what to study next when I get bored. And I kind of - test things out on her."

"How so?" Remus knew they wrote back and forth, but he hadn't realized it was such a regular thing. It made sense that he would relate to her, though - he was much like she'd been as a student, albeit with less hand waving.

"Like, in my head I knew you guys wouldn't care that I’m gay. Two mums, should be easy, right? But I still couldn't figure out how to tell you. It was easier to tell her first because we don't have as much history. She didn't spill about you and Sirius, but she said you'd understand better than I thought." Hermione had recognized his connection to Sirius the first summer she stayed at Grimmauld Place, and every now and then memories would come up that he'd share with her, but he only told his son about their relationship when he came out at Christmas. Teddy drew his attention back to the game by demolishing his bishop. "And she tells me stories."

"I'm glad you two get along so well." He contemplated his next few moves before he asked, "What do you mean, she tells you stories?"

"About the war." At Remus's raised eyebrow, he clarified, "Well, not the war, exactly, unless I ask her about something from history class. But there are all these things that happened before I was born, people you cared about. And I understand why it's hard for everyone to talk about it, but sometimes I wish I knew more about them." He offered a small, tentative smile. "So she tells me about what it was like in school with Harry and Ron. How she used to have tea with you in the morning during the hols when you were doing Order stuff, and you gave her dueling lessons. And about some of the people who died. Like, a few days before Harry's birthday, mum's always so sad about that guy that taught her - "

"Mad-Eye Moody?" That night had been a shitshow.

"Yeah. I know he meant a lot to her, but she never talks about him. Min told me a bunch of stories about how hilarious and crazy he was. And how powerful and brave."

"Yeah, he was," Remus replied softly. "Loved your mum like a daughter. Good thing he was already batty, though, or she would have driven him there, she liked to give him a hard time. And Hermione fought in that battle with us, too. She wasn't much older than you, but she was a veteran by then."

"Really?"

"She got that big curse scar that starts on her shoulder the year before. Your textbook will call that one the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, which sounds grand, but it was the three of them and some other students they trained to fight going up against grown Death Eaters. That's the stuff she doesn't like talking about, but she was pretty crazy and brave herself," he said with a quirk of his lips. _Still is_. "Always been terrified of flying, but the night Mad-Eye died, she climbed right up on a thestral with Kingsley and took out a few Death Eaters while Voldemort chased them. And your mum and your Uncle Ron nearly took down Bellatrix Lestrange."

"That's nuts." Teddy shook his head. His rapt attention kept Remus talking. "What was it like for you?"

"I was scared." His answer drew a disbelieving look that reminded him of his talk with Hermione earlier that week when she found it hard to believe he got nervous. "They outnumbered us, it was dark, curses going everywhere. And I'm good at flying and dueling, but dueling while flying is a different story. Your Uncle George and I were being chased by Severus Snape and a few others. I didn't realize it then - we thought he was on their side - but Severus was aiming for the Death Eaters, I think, when he missed and hit us. That's how George lost his ear. I felt horrible about it, but he and Fred cracked jokes the whole time."

"Wow." Teddy's stunned look filled the silence for a few moments, before he said, "See? These are just names in books to me. And other than the Remembrance Ball and history class I don't really get to learn about the battles. But I feel like I get to know you guys better when I ask her."

"I'm glad.” Remus squeezed his hand. "And you can ask me, too. I never realized how difficult it must be that we don't talk to you about it."

"Thanks." Teddy squeezed back. Then, moving his queen, he lit up, crowing, "Checkmate, finally! This is the first time I've beat you all summer. I guess Min helped."

"Oh, I could have pulled it out of the fire if you weren't getting so good."

"Well, let me quit while I'm ahead." He grinned and started putting the pieces away. "Besides, it's almost dinner, and I'd be a terrible groomsman if I make you late to your own wedding rehearsal."

* * *

After the rehearsal and an informal dinner, they hung out for awhile before everyone cleared out for the night and Remus retreated upstairs with Hermione. He used the suspension frame he kept in the bedroom to put her up in rope, but not in the way he often did with semenawa, where it was meant to be a form of endurance and helplessness, even suffering. This time the intent was still submission and arousal, but for the sake of pleasure.

She lay face-down and blindfolded, her arms bound in front of her at her chest and the harnesses supporting her weight. He’d tied her ankles to her thighs and spread her, but with only a few strands of rope rather than the intricate, confining ties he often favored.

As he trailed his hand over her back, he whispered the subtle aphrodisiac spell he'd developed. When she heard it, she tensed, and he could read the panic in the lines of her body, hear it in her breathing. He cast it rarely when he'd given her permission to come, or more often when he wanted to force her to come without permission. She loved the humiliation of that, but only when he did it on purpose - she couldn't bear disobeying him, no matter how much he tormented and denied her.

"Don't worry, kitten," he murmured, running a soothing hand through her hair. "I'm not setting you up to fail."

She bit her lip but relaxed under his touch with a soft whimper. A light flush already colored her features, and the scent of her arousal that had filled the air since he'd held her while he tied her harnesses grew stronger, more intoxicating.

"I don't understand," she whispered with a shiver as he kept stroking her hair, his other hand rubbing her back. "If you touch me - "

"I'm not going to edge you tonight, little one. Not directly, at least - if you're getting too close, tell me and I'll cancel the charm, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He knew she still didn't understand, but she relaxed further against him, and as he trailed his fingertips over her spine, she mewled. "Do you know how the spell works?" She'd created plenty of her own and had more than enough medical knowledge that he expected she'd puzzled it out the first time he used it on her.

"It heightens the intensity of the neurochemical reactions I'm already having - dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins."

"And I still want to do that, but I don't need to have my fingers or my cock inside of you to make you feel, do I?"

"No, sir." It came out a relieved whisper. "It’s lovely, the way you're touching me now. Like electricity in my nerves. Makes me ache for you more, but it's different."

"Good." He sent her into a gentle spin, letting the air caress her skin as she floated. When she came to a stop, he petted her for a while, enjoying her mewls and whimpers, how she arched to him, seeking more.

He lowered her chest harness so she was hanging at a diagonal and spun her again before bringing her hips and legs down to the same level, a couple of feet from the floor. Once he'd settled next to her, he returned to caressing her, sometimes with his palms and other times with the lightest drag of his fingertips, and she seemed to abandon herself to the sensations.

Sliding to lie beneath, he let her head rest against his shoulder, the rest of her body a few inches above his. She smiled when she sensed how close he was, and he grazed her cheek with his fingers, running his thumb over the silky expanse of her throat. That provoked a slight shudder and a quiet moan.

"How are you feeling, kitten?" He brushed a kiss to her temple.

"Really close to you. Safe." Contentment laced her voice, and it drew a smile from him. "But also turned on, and it's like the sensation builds - higher than normal, but it never peaks. It's - it's a lot."

"You're soaking wet." He dropped kisses along her neck and shoulder, letting his tongue flutter against her pulse as she breathed another moan. He could tell the slightest intensity - a bite, friction against her nipples, a brush against her slit - would make her blow, so he kept to gentle kisses and petting. "I love how responsive and tactile you always are. Tell me if it's too much."

She nodded, noises of pleasure and need still emanating from her throat as he dragged his nails down either side of her spine with the faintest pressure. Continuing the motion over her hips and ass, slow and lingering, he let his hands drift along the inside of her thighs, avoiding coming too close to her center. Her breath came in soft pants, her moans growing louder.

"Please, master," she begged with a deep shudder. "Please, oh God, please - "

All of a sudden she was so far gone it was like she didn't know what to beg for. Tearful with need, she trembled and breathed a litany of pleas that continued even as he withdrew his hands and touched less sensitive areas. It was one of the most beautiful - and most erotic - things he'd ever seen or heard.

"Shh, love." He canceled the charm as soon as he realized that despite her love for intensity and overwhelm she'd veered well into the range of 'too much.' Her pleading kept up as the sensations took several moments to dissipate, and when it had she still shivered, dripping with want and moaning helplessly as he ran his fingers through her curls and stroked her back. "I've got you, I'm right here."

He murmured gentle reassurance to her, petting her while she came down to earth. By the time she seemed more herself, she was shaking from the rush, and she whimpered with the loss of him as he started to move out from beneath her.

"Oh, my precious girl. Give me a minute to get you down and I'll hold you, okay?" As she nodded, he let her go so he could lower her onto the blanket, pulling her near again while he unbound her. He usually took his time putting her up and bringing her down - it was as much a part of the scene as the rest. But instead he focused on working her free of the bindings and slipped the blindfold off, standing and gathering her in his arms to carry her to their bed.

He stripped to his boxers, wrapping the blanket around her and hugging her close. Her shaking settled as she curled up against him and laid her head on his chest. Sinking a hand in her hair, he asked, "Are you alright, little one?"

She nodded. "Gives new meaning to the phrase 'mindless with need," she whispered, prompting a chuckle. "I had no idea it was possible to ache like that, to feel so much and not come. I almost did just from you petting me. But I loved feeling so close to you, and how you touched me."

"Me, too. I'm sorry that I pushed you too much, I wasn't expecting you to react quite so intensely."

"No, no. It was good." She tilted her head to brush her lips to his jaw, against his beard. "I love it when you push me."

"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "You were breathtaking."

She smiled and nuzzled against his chest, suffused with contentment. "Can we stay like this?" It was a drowsy murmur.

"All night, sweet girl."


	4. we've got the heart, it's true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sei proprio una testa dura - “you’re such a hard head”
> 
> 1-2 chapters to go. Probably.

_All of these moving parts, f_ _rom the start we were changing  
I should have seen the signs, all the time we'll be staging  
Bigger scenes and bigger stars, it's not hard to contain it  
But to never lose it?  
_ _Well, we've got the heart, it's true_  
 _Don't wanna waste love, don't wanna hurt you, hurt you_  
 _Liftin' off deeper blues, we're gonna pull through_  
 _We're gonna let heart hold true_

flor, “heart”

Sunday, August 21, 2011

The sound of Hermione's footsteps on the stairs and the whistle of the kettle a few moments later drew Remus to the kitchen from the library. She had a habit of boiling it quickly with her wand, and she stood at the counter in one of his black t-shirts, pulling down tea bags and honey.

"Good morning, love." He wrapped an arm around her from behind, dropping a kiss in her wild hair.

"Morning, sir," she murmured. "Sorry I slept so late."

"Shh." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "You know I don't mind, and you needed it, you were restless last night. Do you remember?"

"Yeah."

Her nightmares only came every few weeks now instead of most nights. She'd somehow trained herself years ago not to yell or scream, but her trembling or her tears and whispered pleas still woke him. At first it bothered her that he wouldn’t let her sleep alone, but he preferred to comfort her. She got back to sleep quickly when he did, and sometimes she didn't recall it in the morning.

By now he was used to the ones from her years at the Bureau, but she spoke French or Spanish during those, though occasionally he'd catch snatches in other languages. Last night she'd spoken in her native tongue.

He stilled her hands once she set the tea to steep, twining his fingers with hers. "Do you want to talk about it? It didn't seem like your usual ones."

Her thumb traced his knuckles. "Remember when we used to meet in the kitchen?"

"You haven't had those in years." A concerned frown tugged at his mouth.

Their tradition of early morning tea during the war had begun the summer before her Fifth Year, when the sound of her crying out from the room next door tore him from sleep one night. She felt guilty for waking him then, too - she usually had someone of age set a silencing charm, which bothered him. Back then she dreamt of something happening to Harry and Ron or to her parents, but her nightmares got darker and more lifelike as she accumulated plenty of haunting experiences over the next few years.

Dueling distracted her from it as well as exhausting her, but after the war, they didn't do it as often. Aside from her play dates with Teddy or running into one another at the Burrow, he rarely saw her that year unless Ron sent him to Harry's grave to pry a bottle from her hand. Though she insisted her strained friendships weren't to blame for her leaving, he still carried guilt over that.

"I'm okay, Remus." She turned to meet his eyes, resting her palm against his cheek and offering him a small smile. "Really, I am. Probably just thrown off-kilter because it's been a hectic week."

"It has." He covered her hand with his and kissed her palm, then held her close as she rested her head against his bare chest and her arms came around him. After a few minutes, he said, "I'm going upstairs, sweet girl. I want you to come up and offer me tea like you usually do."

"Yes, sir."

Before he left, he took her face in his hands and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. Shortly after he settled on the couch in their bedroom, he heard her footsteps. She set the tray on the table nearby and picked his up. She'd long since mastered the art of dropping to her knees with enough grace not to spill anything, and he murmured a cushioning charm for her when she did.

"Thank you, little one." He took the cup from her upturned palms, giving her space to sit between his legs once she'd retrieved her own. "Tastes better when you make it, and not only because you're so lovely when you offer it to me. You put just the right amount of honey."

She laughed, taking a sip and then setting her cup aside to rest her head in his lap while he carded his other hand through her chestnut curls. "Not enough?"

"Exactly." She'd teased him about that the first time she made it for him.

As he stroked her hair, she closed her eyes, the lines of her face softening. She was always so obedient, so attentive and thoughtful, that it was easy to forget how much she craved the small reminders of their dynamic, because he didn't need to worry about keeping her in line.

He didn’t hold her to much protocol, but they had little rituals and habits - making his tea, offering him cigars and drinks on her knees, sitting on the floor most of the time unless they were eating or she was in his lap. If they showered together he always bathed her, and she cooked most nights except when she took a longer shift at the hospital. Every now and then she would kneel while they ate so he could feed her by hand, and she loved the possessive touches he’d give her even when they were doing mundane things like going through their research notes. During Teddy's visits or when they had company, they were more discreet, but he still found ways to remind her.

Most of that had gone out the window this week between being apart the first few days and the chaotic schedule of the last few. It wasn't the only reason she felt off-kilter. But though she would never complain about it - and perhaps didn't realize it - he suspected it was the main one.

They sat in silence for awhile, and eventually he set the empty cup aside, still petting her. "Do you remember what I told you when I first collared you?"

"About fighting my battles for me?"

"Yes, but I meant something else."

She lifted her head. "You said to focus on pleasing you and let you take care of everything else."

"Good girl." Her eyes fluttered closed as he cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. "You're the most brilliant, capable person I know, Hermione. And I'm not just saying that because I'm madly in love with you," he added with a grin. "I'm so, so proud of you. What you accomplished this week, but also your research and your work. I know how much it means to you."

"Thank you, sir." A pretty blush colored her cheeks. She had a praise kink a mile wide, but compliments made her uncomfortable.

"It's the truth." He stroked the hollow of her throat as she mewled. "And sometimes those things will take your focus. That's okay, it's part of who you are, a part I love very much. But you're also mine, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. And I love being yours."

"I know you do. And I love taking care of you so that you don't have to be responsible for everything. It pleases me that you want me to have authority over your life." Running his knuckles along her cheek, he said, "I owe you an apology for letting things get so chaotic this week."

"Sir - "

He stilled her protests with a light touch of his fingers to her lips. "Consistency is one of the main things that holds a dynamic together, you know that as well as I do. And we'll talk sometime about ways we can keep it when we're apart or our schedule's disrupted." He smiled at her. "You've not done anything wrong, little one, just the opposite. You've been such a good girl, you always are."

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"You're welcome. It's a gift that you let me, Min, one I don't take lightly." As she squeezed his hand with a soft smile and returned to resting her head against his leg, he added, "There are so many things I'm looking forward to today, but one of them will be showing you how much I adore you when I take you to bed as my wife."

She blushed again, nuzzling further into his lap and whispering, "I'm looking forward to that, too."

His lips quirked. "And you were right yesterday, wolves can smell fear. But it’s funny, when I'm around you I usually just smell your arousal - and ironically it's quite strong when I'm threatening you," he teased as her blush deepened. "I made a promise to you earlier this week, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir."

"I may have gotten pleasantly sidetracked with holding you the last two mornings." He gave her hair a gentle tug. This would be a worthy challenge - she was so sensitive he'd have to be careful. "But I always keep my promises. Would you like me to do that now or later, kitten?"

"Now, please, sir." She ran her mouth along the knit cotton of his sleeping trousers, her warm breath tracing his shaft. "I want to taste you."

"Oh, I know. ‘Want’ is an understatement, I think. You may not have come since Monday, but you haven’t sucked my cock since - was it a week ago Friday when I fucked your throat last? I've been cruel, neglecting your oral obsession so." A moan was her only response, muffled given how she'd shamelessly buried her face in his lap. "Where would you like my come?"

"My - my face, sir. Please." As she tilted her head, it came out a whisper, shyer than usual. She'd only recently begun asking him to do that, when she brought up a desire for him to push her more sometimes with humiliation and objectification. He was delicate about it because of her trauma, but if he could avoid veering into degradation and still make her feel cherished, she found it an incredible turn on. So did he.

"Is that right? Do you need me to remind you of who owns this eager mouth?" he asked, tracing her lips with his thumb.

"Yes, please."

"Always so polite." As she shivered, he ran a tender hand through her curls, his voice gentle. "What makes you think you deserve to suck my cock, kitten?"

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. "Because I followed the rules this week?"

His sharp tug drew another whimper. "You did follow the rules, and I'm proud of you, but that's not the reason. Look at me and try again."

She looked up, flushed with arousal, her eyes dark. Her whisper was still shy, but more certain this time. "Because I'm your slave and it pleases you to let me, sir."

"Much better. You don't need to earn anything, little one. It’s not a transaction. And when I make promises like that, whether you'll be my good girl isn't in question. Do you understand?" He also didn’t ever want to feed her insecurities by making her believe she could fall short. As she nodded, he said, "Take my shirt off, I want to see you."

She complied, but when she started to take off her black silk panties he shook his head. "They're rather flimsy, but you'd better keep them on this time. If you make a mess on my floor you'll be cleaning it with your tongue. And I suspect you need all the help you can get."

Her cheeks flamed even more and he chuckled. "And it goes without saying, but you're not to come until tonight, greedy girl. Your focus needs to stay on pleasing me right now." He found her orgasms quite pleasing, but he also loved making her embarrassed over her arousal.

"Yes, sir." She unconsciously licked her lips.

He stood, towering over her, winding her hair around his fist and pulling her up onto her knees so she'd be level with his hips. "Arms behind your back. Keep them there."

She breathed a little sigh. She loved touching him, but her disappointment quickly gave way to lust and a reverence bordering on worship as he freed his cock from his trousers. She rubbed her face against him in the sweet, kittenish manner she always did - as if she wanted to drown herself in his scent - and dipped her head to suckle at his balls, laving them with her tongue. He groaned and lifted his shaft from her cheek, stroking it while he watched her, her quiet whimpers humming against his skin.

When she looked up, he guided his cock to her lips and let her lap up the beads of precum collecting at the tip before she sucked him into her mouth. She painted abstract designs against his length with her tongue, and soon the head hit the back of her mouth with each stroke. As she started to devour him, though, he groaned and dragged her off roughly while she gave a little cry.

"Such an enthusiastic fucktoy," he said, gently slapping her cheek with his cock as she gasped and whimpered. "But you're not doing that today. Tell me how often you come without being touched while you're deepthroating me."

"Um - a - about a third of the time, sir," she whispered, shame coloring her features as she lowered her gaze.

"Except for when I've been tormenting you. That shifts the balance past 50/50. Why is that, do you think?"

"Because I'm a needy slut who can't control myself, sir." She might still have been flushed with shame, but he could hear the slight smile in her voice. "Whether I've been tormented or not."

He loosened his grip enough that she could take him into her mouth again. "Yes, you are," he said fondly. "An honest one, too. This morning I'm using your mouth to get myself off, though. Isn't that what you need, little toy, to have your holes used properly? For me to remind you of your place?" The double meaning was a reinforcement of their earlier conversation in its own way.

Her answering moan reverberated through him and made his balls clench. He used his grip on her hair as leverage to thrust, shallowly enough that he barely tapped her throat. She hollowed her cheeks, the pull of her making him throb against her tongue as she caressed his cock with it.

"Fucking hell," he growled, a shudder coursing through him. "Just like that, kitten. You feel amazing." When she went from caressing to thrashing he growled louder, stroking her cheek. "Be a good girl and take my balls in your mouth."

She let him go with a gentle pop and ducked her head again, moaning just as eagerly against his sac, the sensation making them tighten dangerously. He pumped his cock in his fist for a minute, then pulled her back by her hair. Before he could speak, his climax ripped through him, drawing a shout as ecstasy ran like lightning along his nerves for so long it was almost unbearable.

Good thing he'd stayed by the couch. He let go of her and sat down hard against the cushions, trying to catch his breath and gain control of his faculties. The sight of her lapping his come from her fingers made his cock twitch, and she leaned forward to clean him with her tongue, practically purring.

"Have mercy, please," he teased a few minutes later. "Oh, thank Merlin, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to speak again."

Her warm breath brushed his sensitive skin as she giggled before lifting her head. "Are you alright, sir?"

"Bloody brilliant, but you'll have to manage the cleansing charm. Shame evolution hasn't sorted the refractory period, seeing you covered in my come makes me want to fuck you senseless." Once she cleansed her face and he adjusted himself, she laid her head in his lap, stroking his leg gently until he said, "Come here. Sideways - I don't want you tempted to grind on my lap, little slut."

"Probably for the best about the refractory period.” She curled up against him and his arms came around her. "Because the minute you touch me properly I'm going to come, and I still have - " She cast Temporus. " - five hours until I'm your wife and another six before I can kick everyone out without being considered rude." As a chuckle rumbled through his chest, she added, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Mm. Very. You're not the only one that had a long week, that's all. Mine was less torturous, but I don't like coming alone." The pleasant shock on her face drew a grin. "And the reason I don't often let you make me come this way isn't to torment you, though that's a wonderful side effect. It's because you're so fucking good at it, your eager mouth is going to be the death of me one of these days."

She dropped a chaste kiss to his mouth. "Flatterer."

"Truth.” He nipped at her bottom lip. "I love you so much, Hermione."

"I love you, too, master." Joy glimmered in her eyes when they met his, then a hint of anxiety tugged at her features. "The vultures are descending soon."

"Playing dress-up with Ginny can't be as scary as some of the things you've been through. And I plan to hold you until they make me let you go, so don't even think about getting up.”

"Perhaps you don't know Ginny well enough." Hermione laughed, snuggling closer to him with a sigh of contentment. "But I meant the shortage of time, morning of the ceremony's the traditional time for gifts, right? I thought about giving it to you last night, but then you systematically destroyed my capacity to think, so - "

"It is," he said with a flicker of surprise. "We didn't talk about it, but I have one for you. Summon it for me?"

She cast two summoning charms, producing a wrapped gift that looked suspiciously like a book, and then a moment later a smaller one that he knew was a jewelry box.

"Open yours first." He stroked her hip with his thumb.

Hermione set the larger one aside and shot him a tentative smile as she carefully separated the paper from the box. "Oh, it's beautiful, Remus," she said with a look of awe as she lifted the armband from it. Intertwining strands of rose gold rope, chain, and ivy formed the band, suspending a filigree pendant with a black pearl, surrounded by draping chains. It would match her collar and her rings. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Remus kissed her temple. "I have an ulterior motive - to give you reasons to wear short sleeves more often - but I was hoping it might coordinate with your dress."

"It will, actually, even more so with the pearl."

"Lovely." The beaming smile on her face brought one to his own.

"Your turn."

He tore the paper to uncover a photo album covered in watercolor silk painted with crocuses and moonflowers. She bit her lower lip hesitantly when he glanced at her before opening it.

The first page held pictures of them at Grimmauld Place - in the first, they’d been caught unawares in the kitchen, sitting on opposite sides of the breakfast nook, deep in debate and probably on their second or third cup of tea given the amount of light filtering in from the window. She brought a disposable camera that summer, the Muggle kind, so Harry or someone else must have borrowed it. Beneath that, the album held a moving photo of Hermione laughing as she dodged one of his jinxes while they dueled in the garden.

He flipped through it slowly, with a sense of wonder - there were a number of candid group pictures covering the next few summers and the year after the war, interspersed with ones people had caught of the two of them and of her with a younger Teddy. A few pages covered her absence - pictures of him and his son, sometimes with Ginny and Dora or the Weasleys and Andromeda. As he got to the more recent section, he said, "This is amazing, Min. How did you ever pull this together?"

"I shook everyone down for whatever they had so I could make copies. And dug through some of Harry's stuff. I'm glad you like it."

"I love it." He brushed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Really, I'll treasure it. I can't wait to show Teddy."

"Make sure you take out the last section first." Amusement colored her voice, but she was blushing again.

He turned to the back to find a smaller book bound separately and tucked inside, and he raised a curious eyebrow.

"I know you're not big on lingerie, but if you want naked pictures of me, you'll be taking them yourself. Ginny was kind enough to help with these."

Both eyebrows went up at that, and her blush deepened. He opened the little book - also silk, but painted with ivy this time - to catch a stunning still of her perched on the seat of the bay window across from where they sat now, wearing a babydoll of sheer cream tulle with intricate embroidery, the suggestion of panties underneath. She faced the camera, her eyes downcast and a shy smile playing on her lips, her curls pinned up and woven with wildflowers. 

"Wow." When he glanced up, she didn't meet his eyes. He tipped her head up, kissing her tenderly for several moments, his tongue curling around hers. When he broke the kiss, he held her gaze. "My beautiful, brave girl," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir." Her shy smile was an echo of the photograph, but some of the tension in her small frame dissipated as she cuddled into him.

He looked through the rest of them, tracing them with reverent hands. There were several more staged throughout their bedroom and the play room they kept at the cottage. In most she wore the same babydoll or a lace set, but there were a few with the corsets he only ever had her wear to the dungeon.

The next page found her in a black leather one, resting on her stomach on the bed, head propped on her arms but looking away. Cage-back panties revealed a glimpse of her ass, framed by suspenders that held up thigh-high stockings. And the following photo, of her in virginal ivory lace reclining against the St. Andrew's cross - unbound but holding one of his coiled whips between her teeth - made him hard as granite.

"Goddamn, kitten." He bit her neck, relishing the sound of her pleading moan. Once he caressed the spot with his tongue, his warm breath grazed her ear as he murmured, "You need to pack more lingerie for Greece. I'm growing a new appreciation." He loved it on her, just not as much as he loved seeing her naked, so when she wore it, it rarely stayed on for long.

"Yes, sir." She was breathless, whimpering as he trailed kisses over her collarbone, her thighs parting on instinct. "Feels like the refractory period's been sorted. God, I need you."

He chuckled and nipped the shell of her ear, cupping her breast in his palm and giving her the lightest brush of his thumb when she arched to his touch. "Only a little longer, precious girl."

She started as a loud knock was followed by Dora's cheerful voice. "Gin says it's bad luck to fuck before the wedding night! And to remind you she has custody for the next four hours!"

Remus rolled his eyes. When he called back, "It's not nice to cockblock, Dora," Hermione went from pink to red and pressed her face to his neck.

“I’d better let you get dressed, little one.” He wound his arms around her and hugged her close one last time, running his fingers through her hair as his lips brushed her forehead. "Text me if I need to send a rescue party."

* * *

Remus's afternoon passed in a blur of excitement and preparation upstairs and outside, while Hermione stayed secluded downstairs. When four o'clock approached, Ginny sent him to find her for a time check, and he tensed as the sound of crying filtered through from the guest room into the first floor hallway. Lycanthropy gave him keen hearing in addition to smell, and as he drew closer to the door, her sobs wrenched his heart. He almost knocked before he made out words through her tears and realized she wasn't alone.

" - doing my hair and all I could think was how my mum used to get so frustrated with the fact that I was never into girly stuff. Said the only time she'd be able to dress me up would be the day I got married, and I wasn't getting out of it."

"Nothing's wrong with you, cara," Cesare said, low and soothing. "Grief isn't linear, you know that. Of course you miss them this weekend. How could you not?"

She took a shuddering breath. "I stole so much from them, Ces. I didn't even give them an informed choice because they would have made the wrong fucking one. God, I hate this."

"What, feeling things?" he scoffed. "Come on, it's been a while, but you know the drill. First real Occlumency lesson I ever gave you."

"Do I have to?" she asked in a small voice.

"I'm waiting, Hermione." His gentle tone softened the stern words.

Remus knew he should have either announced himself or given them privacy, but a rush of concern kept him from leaving, and - if he was honest - a flicker of curiosity stayed his knock. He never begrudged her her past relationships, and he respected and valued Cesare’s role in her life. But though she didn’t hide things from him, she didn't talk much about those years or about her parents. He only knew the broad strokes of how they became close.

She quoted it back to him, still shaky - word for word, it sounded like. "'You can either accept that you're ruled by emotion, get on your knees, and find a safe container to deal with it, or you can keep using Occlumency to pretend numbness is control and I'll break you every time. You'll pass the Bureau's training with the normal techniques, but you'll be dead within a year, Kate. Your pain tolerance won't be worth shit if an interrogator knows what they're doing.'"

"And once you rebuilt your mind map, your emotions made you my best student. Two months as my submissive and you were the only trainee I couldn't crack. You may lack the equipment I prefer in bed, but that eidetic memory is sexy, too," Cesare teased. "Me, on the other hand, I'm getting senile. I need you to help me out with the rest."

"Which one?" she asked, like they'd done this call and response many times before. "Good thing about my eidetic memory, because every other goddamn day was a life lesson. The even days were for work lessons."

He snorted. "Let's go with the only time I took a cat to you."

This time her response was immediate. "'You're not a masochist and I don't appreciate being used as a numbing agent.' And then you ranted for five straight minutes in gutter Italian." She gave a watery laugh. "About how they recruited me, probably. It was kind of hard to follow."

"You don't miss a trick. But while you're cute when you're being a smart ass, you know that's not the part I'm talking about."

"Ugh." She breathed a heavy sigh. "You told me you didn't need to know everything about the war to know I didn't earn my guilt and I didn't have anything to be p - punished for. And that being ruthless enough to - " The sob that stole the end of the sentence tore at Remus.

"Shh, it's okay. Take your time."

She cried for a couple of minutes before she spoke again, her voice breaking every few words. "Being ruthless enough to do whatever it took regardless of the cost to me saved their lives, and they'd be grateful if they knew. That I had the right to deal with my grief however I needed to as long as I stopped hiding from it. And those qualities made me a great agent, but I'd better follow your rules and not take stupid risks."

"Good girl. Min, your emotions are what make you strong, and the things you guilt yourself for are the same things that allowed you to save so many people. They make you a great slave and a great friend, too, but thank God the balance has finally shifted when it comes to cost."

"Jesus, Ces. How many times do we have to have this conversation? You're right, it's just - "

"Your memory may be eidetic, but your heart isn't," he interrupted softly. "This is the kind of thing people who love you, people you trust to be honest, have to tell you over and over. It'll sink in a little more each time, and you've got a few of us on hand to remind you when you forget."

It was the kind of thing Remus had told her many times before and after her disappearance, but he sometimes wondered if she thought he was just ignoring her flaws or trying to make up for being a dick to her when she'd first revealed the truth about her parents. He was grateful she had other people to reinforce it.

"Love you, too," she murmured as Cesare spoke the same cleansing spell he often used after she cried. "And you're losing your touch. I know you were behind that absurd anonymous donation."

There was a burst of cackling. "Then I hope you've learned a valuable lesson about what happens when you get mouthy. I don’t put you over my knee anymore, but I still have my ways, cara. _Sei proprio una testa dura_ , expecting me to walk you down the aisle and refusing to let me pay for things," he scolded.

"Remus may keep the statements, but I know that's over ten times what the entire weekend cost, you ass," she shot back with fond exasperation. "Besides, I can't cut into your drinking budget, your boys Rémy and Courvoisier might get jealous."

She hadn't mentioned anything about it to him. And Cesare, who was some kind of pureblood royalty, was too well-mannered to bring it up, even if it was more about the gesture - they had the money. But Hermione was fiercely independent in so many things, so it didn't surprise him that she'd argued over it. What still did surprise him was that she felt comfortable enough six months ago to ask him about taking full authority over their finances.

"Min, I have more money than God. It should be put to better use than just stocking the liquor cabinet. And I have a vested interest in the welfare of magical creatures in Britain, since one's a good friend and he's now responsible for one of the two people I love most in the world. Oh, here comes the flood again."

"Thank fuck for Ginny's cosmetic impervius charms." This time her tears were laced with laughter.

Remus gave a gentle knock. "Hey, it's me. I'm under strict orders not to see the bride, but Gin said to be ready in ten." More like twenty, if he hadn't spent half of it eavesdropping, but he quashed the flicker of guilt. Knowing how well she was cared for made it worthwhile.

"Yes, sir! Promise not to leave you at the altar. Or, you know, the cherry trees."

"Whew, I was worried there for a second," he called back to the sound of more laughter. "Okay, I'm going, the coast is clear."

"Sure you want to do this? Last chance to change your mind," he heard Cesare joke as he walked away, quickly followed by, "No need to be so violent! Grab your Brighteye Potion, let's make you presentable."


	5. somewhere deep within i knew i would always look to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in the chapter are from "white noise" by flor. Brace yourself, this is nearly 8k words of tooth-rotting fluff (sorry not sorry).

_Stronger than it’s ever been, rising in the waiting_   
_Deeper than I made it out to be_   
_Now the water’s keeping me_   
_Somewhere deep within I knew I would always look to you_   
_Well, if I’ve learned, if I’ve learned from anything_   
_Let it be, let it be that love is free_   
_Love can’t live, live within somebody’s bounds_   
_Never let, never let another person tell you how_

flor, “moonday”

Sunday, August 21, 2011

"Oxygen in, carbon dioxide out."

Dora's quiet reminder penetrated Remus's fog and sunk in enough that he managed to take a couple of breaths.

"Don't need to get my ass kicked for letting you faint. Circe, you're as much of a wreck as you were the first time around, thought practice would make you better at this."

Next to Dora, Teddy laughed, joined by Ron and Ginny, who'd made it down the aisle and stood across from them.

"Thanks for that assessment," he said with an exasperated chuckle and a shake of his head. Privately, he had to admit the truth in it.

A brief pause in the processional gave him the opportunity to regain his faculties as the instrumentals of Oasis's Wonderwall continued playing, courtesy of the band Ginny had booked through an old Quidditch connection.

Kingsley wore his usual ornate garb and a broad smile, and Dora and Ginny's slate blue gowns complemented Ron and Teddy's dress robes. Remus had opted for a three-piece suit in the same hue with some accents on the vest, given his slave's fondness for seeing him in them. Neither of them wore robes often - they’d chosen Muggle clothing, and their guests were in a mix of Muggle and magical attire. The group stood beneath the canopy of the twin cherry trees in the cottage's garden, and someone had moved the bench where he'd proposed to make space. The late summer sun dappled the garden and a cool breeze ruffled the leaves.

His fragile resolve to keep his shit together absconded at the sight of Hermione, but he was too enraptured to faint.

Flowers wove through the chestnut curls pinned up in a braid around her crown. A few strands framed her face, which showed no signs of her emotional conversation minutes before, only wonder. A sleeveless, smoky gray silk bodice embroidered with more blue and white blossoms - crocuses and moonflowers again, he realized - gave way to a gauzy chiffon skirt, cinched at the waist with a wide slate blue ribbon that matched her bouquet. Sunlight illuminated the metal of her collar and armband, and she wore the caged black pearl earrings he’d given her their second Christmas together.

He was still drinking her in by the time she and Cesare made it up the aisle between the rows of chairs that held their friends and family. Her amber eyes captured his as Kingsley said opening words. When he asked who gave her to Remus and she turned to Cesare, he glimpsed her bodice dipping below her shoulder blades with shock. It revealed the numerous scars beneath the ink of her willow branches, adorned with an ornate arrangement of steel butterflies suspended with careful sewing and spellwork. Beautiful, yes - but also, it was so much more than he'd asked of her. More than she'd ever shown of herself, of what had occurred during her years away, to nearly everyone there.

"I have that happy honor," Cesare replied, and then added with a wink at him, "Good luck, you'll need it. No refunds or exchanges."

Remus and Kingsley chuckled as Hermione said, "So rude! I still love you, though." She hugged the other man, and he kissed her forehead before he released her.

When she turned back to Remus, he could see she'd left the self-consciousness over her scars, and everything else, behind for the moment - beneath the amusement, her gaze was bare to him in a way he was only used to seeing when he made love to her. Open, trusting, vulnerable.

Kingsley said some words about love and commitment, and about their relationship. They'd settled on a simple ceremony incorporating his mother's Irish Catholic influence. A staunch agnostic, Hermione's main connections to her Anglican roots were her habit of praying when she needed something - mostly wishful thinking at inappropriate times and for scandalous things - and the extensive list of ways she liked to take the Lord's name in vain. Remus was more of a believer, but far from religious.

They'd discussed the readings and words weeks ago, but even with Kingsley's customary gravity and eloquence, they barely registered in Remus's mind. He was more drawn in by the awe on her face, the curve of her mouth, the radiant joy that colored her pale skin. When she took his hand, though, it drew him back into the present.

"Remus and Hermione, these ribbons are a symbol of the connection of your lives. As your hands are bound together, so, too, will your lives be bound together."

Hermione met Remus's gaze while Dora and Ginny wound colorful ribbons over their hands and wrists and Kingsley intoned,

"These are the hands that will love and cherish you.   
These are the hands that will work alongside yours to build your future together.   
These are the hands that will offer you support and encouragement.   
These are the hands that will protect and shield you.   
These are the hands that will give you solace and comfort through hard times.   
These are the hands that will wipe the tears from your eyes.   
These are the hands that will hold your family together as one."

As their friends tied off the knots, Hermione reached up to brush the tears from Remus's cheeks with her other hand, smiling at him when he kissed her palm.

"The knots of this binding are not formed by these ribbons but instead by your vows, the commitments you make in your heart and uphold every day through your actions."

Dora's not-so-subtle elbow drew him to surface from the depths of Hermione's gaze.

"Right." The nervous edge to his voice dissipated as Hermione gave his knuckles a reassuring stroke of her thumb where they were bound, but his heart still felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He'd never been so certain of anything in his life, though.

"I, Remus Lupin, take you, Hermione Granger, to be my wife. Min, the first promise I ever made you - after swearing up, down, and sideways to secrecy - was on our first date when I promised you that you were safe with me. And I've taken other vows since - to love and accept you completely, to take care of you, to fight your battles for as long as you'll let me, to hold you as much as you want and cherish you always, no matter what comes." 

Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears as they held his.

"You awe me every day, my precious girl. I mean, I had to vow to let you fight a few of my battles because you're literally _remaking the world_ so people like me have a place in it. I still haven't wrapped my head around that." Kingsley's warm expression mirrored the amazement in Remus's voice, and Hermione blushed. "But even more than that, I'm in awe because despite all you've been through, you're brave enough to trust me wholly. And today I vow to do everything I can to keep earning that trust for the rest of our lives, Hermione."

Hermione's breath stuttered and she swallowed hard. "I, Hermione Granger, take you, Remus Lupin, to be my husband - in addition to the long list of other important titles you already hold. I promise to leave you a little space on the bookshelves, to cheer for you even when I'm positively destroying you in the cage, and to keep the pouting to a minimum when you beat me in a duel." Her lips quirked and she winked at him as scattered laughter rose from the crowd. But when she spoke again, her voice was serious. "I love you so much. And I could promise that'll never change, and that I'll always honor and obey you, and that's true, but I made those vows a long time ago. What I need to promise is that I'll be open to change, even - and especially - when it scares me."

She took a deep breath and he squeezed her hand when it trembled slightly in his. "I've looked up to you ever since I first met you, and my care and admiration for you have only grown as long as we've known each other. You make me want to be a better person, Remus - you always have, and for the last two years you've shown me how. It's one of the things I'm most grateful for. So today, I promise to be my whole self, even when I'm a mess - because let's be honest, I usually am - and to never hide from you. And I vow to be willing to be transformed by your love."

His throat constricted for a moment. It was a strange feeling, being the one who had trouble mastering his tears - the situation was so often reversed when they were alone. But he didn't mind it in the least.

"Hermione and Remus, do you swear to live by these vows for as long as your love shall last?" Kingsley asked. As they both said, 'I do,' he continued, "Remember, you hold in your own hands the making or breaking of this bond. Because you cannot always be physically joined together, you will each wear a ring as a constant reminder of your connection."

Once Dora and Ginny had removed the ribbons while keeping the knots intact, both women handed over their rings. They'd decided to surprise each other, though agreeing to keep to the rose gold theme of her jewelry. Hermione's hand was warm as he slid hers on next to her engagement ring. The twisted band inset with tiny diamonds once belonged to his mother, and it brought him joy to see it on her. She placed a wider band around his - rich red-brown wood, perhaps rosewood, with a slender inlay of rose gold along one side. It was perfect.

When Kingsley pronounced them husband and wife, Remus muttered, "Finally," just to hear the music of her laughter before he tipped her head up and gathered her in his arms, kissing her soundly.

After a bit of ribbing, the kiss ended - too soon, in his opinion - and their guests showered them in flowers as they made it back down the aisle. They followed it with a round of pictures - Ginny's friends were capturing candid shots throughout the day, but he'd insisted on some portraits for posterity.

Somehow they managed to escape for a bit before dinner while Cesare hosted cocktails outside, thank Merlin. Remus pulled Hermione into the cottage and set her on the dining table, standing between her legs, her dress swishing against his trousers.

"Hi," she murmured, her eyes sparkling.

"Hello, wife." The table sorted their height difference enough that he could rest his forehead against hers more comfortably. He stroked her shoulders, tracing her scars and tattoo from memory and running his fingers along the steel. "You would devise a wedding dress that can stab me."

She grinned and pecked his lips. "Shall I take them off?"

"They're lovely, but I plan to have my arms around you for as much of the evening as I can, so maybe it's not a bad idea." He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead as she murmured the spell, catching the metal as it detached from the fabric and setting it aside. "This dress is breathtaking, though. _You're_ breathtaking, Hermione. I know how hard it is for you to show yourself like this, and I'm proud of you, my beautiful girl."

"Thank you, sir." She was blushing again.

"Do you think Ginny and Neville would mind terribly if I undid some of their handiwork?" He tucked an escaped curl behind her ear.

"If they do, you can blame me for not being able to make it six hours without your hands buried in my hair," she said with a rueful shrug. "And it's more practical for dancing, anyway."

He pulled her close, reveling in the warmth of her body against his as she rested her head on his shoulder while he took his time unpinning her braids and unweaving the flowers Neville provided for the occasion. Once he’d set the pins and flowers aside, he sunk a hand into her curls, combing through them with gentle strokes.

"How are you feeling, little one?"

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Joyful seems insufficient. Elated, perhaps? It'll have to do."

"I can relate." He traced the bare expanse of her shoulders as he continued carding his hand through her hair. "I love you, Hermione Lupin."

"I love you, too. I love the way my name sounds in your mouth." She rubbed her cheek affectionately to his shoulder. "You really were nervous. I thought you were just trying to make me feel better, before."

His lips quirked. "You have Dora to thank for not letting me faint before you made it down the aisle, Min. My heart was hammering so hard I'm surprised you couldn't hear it."

She giggled, pushing back the jacket he wore and running her hands over the textured silk vest, tracing the pearl buttons. "You were still amazing. And gorgeous."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said, shrugging out of the jacket and tossing it over the chair nearby.

As he kissed her temple, she opened her mouth to say something and closed it, hesitating a moment. Then she whispered, "Hey, did you know we have, like, twenty whole minutes before someone comes to drag us out?"

The hopeful lilt in her voice made a laugh rumble through his chest. "I'm not going to ravish you right now. I intend to take my time doing that." He brushed his lips to her pout. "In fact, I'm not going to molest you at all. I'll even let you keep your panties on this time. You _are_ wearing panties, aren't you?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out, sir." She nipped at his bottom lip. Cocking her head thoughtfully, she added, "Call it incentive."

"Minx." He wrapped his hand around her throat, running his thumb over her silky skin and giving her a squeeze that made her gasp and part her legs wider. His mouth against her ear, he growled, "Didn't anyone ever warn you it's dangerous to go around tempting big bad wolves?"

A violent shiver rippled through her as he let up the pressure on her throat, and she nuzzled into his neck, laving his pulse. "Maybe. It wasn't exactly a deterrent."

"You little thrill-seeker. One of these days you're going to talk your way into something you can't get out of." He tugged her head up so he could run his mouth down her throat.

"I hope I just did." She moaned and arched her back, squeezing his hips with her thighs. "I mean, I'm given to understand there are legal remedies, but - "

"Oh, you're mine, kitten." It came out in another possessive growl, and he gave her earlobe a tender bite, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. "Every last inch of you. And I'm never letting you go."

"Good," she replied with a shudder. " _Please_ , master."

The raw need in her voice went straight to his cock, but he just shifted to pressing gentle kisses over her cheek and neck and stroking her back until she breathed a frustrated sigh and loosened her grip on his hips. She pleasantly surprised him when she didn't push or protest even a little. Not that he minded her feisty moments - they were usually adorable and always hot - but the obedience he loved was a heady pleasure all its own, especially when she was this desperate for him.

He tipped her head up, enjoying her flushed features and the heat of desire in her eyes. Cupping her cheek, he brushed his lips to hers, drawing her into a gentle kiss and wrapping her in his embrace. She wound her arms around his waist and he kissed her thoroughly but sweetly, until her pleading moans mellowed to little mewls and sighs in his mouth.

After several minutes he broke the kiss to the sound of her quiet whimper, and she tucked her head against his shoulder again, relaxing against him. She radiated contentment despite her frustrated arousal, and he held her in comfortable silence until he knew they'd be missed.

As they made their way from the dining room towards the kitchen door that led into the garden, they ran into Ginny on her way in to grab them, and Remus rolled his eyes at her impish grin. "Don't give me that look, Ginevra. I was a perfect gentleman."

"Unfortunately," Hermione added, the picture of helpfulness.

"Well, that's a first." Ginny took her other hand. "Hurry up, I want to get to the part where I can embarrass the two of you in public."

"I feel like you do that regularly even when I'm not getting married," she pointed out.

"But it's not every day I have such a huge, attentive audience. Gotta take the joy where you can!"

Hermione shot him a look of alarm, but let them both lead her out to the platform, where long banquet tables were situated along one side to leave space for a dance floor, the ceiling hung with greenery and floating lights. Ginny deposited her in the chair between Remus and Ryan and then joined Dora a bit further down, with Teddy between them.

She was quiet throughout dinner, only catching up a bit with Ryan and with Cesare's slave, Jacob. She gave Remus a radiant smile as they cut the cake, though. They'd opted to do dessert before dancing. She'd insisted on keeping the design a secret, and the sight of the tiered cake of swirling blue shot through with gold cracks made his breath catch at the symbolism - a reference to the Japanese tradition of kintsugi, where precious metal was used to repair broken things.

"It's beautiful, little one," he murmured, hugging her close before he pulled her chair out for her again. Once they sat back down, he handed her a glass of champagne. Though she drank often when she was younger, she’d come to dislike alcohol or intoxicating potions because she hated feeling disoriented around others, and neither of them would do intense play after getting tipsy. But it was her wedding day. "One glass won't hurt. You've still got a good three hours before you can kick everyone out, remember?"

"Besides, we're toasting," Cesare said with a wink, lifting his own glass of bubbly as he stood and Jacob cast Sonorus for him.

"Oh, hell. Here we go." Hermione took a healthy swallow without a single complaint, then hid her face against Remus's shoulder as he laughed.

It started out innocently enough - Cesare spoke a few words to thank everyone for attending and to remember those who weren't present, naming Harry, Sirius, and both Hermione and Remus's parents, and paying homage to the others they lost in the war. Then his lips curved as he said, "I'm going to regale you with some history, but first, let’s hear from the best woman and maid of honor, who would like to toast the happy couple."

"There's still time to Disapparate." Hermione's breath tickled his ear.

"I heard that," Dora called as she and Ginny stood on Teddy's other side. "I'm not above setting a ward." She cleared her throat and continued, "Thanks everyone for being here and helping us give these two a proper party. And thanks to Cesare and Jacob for being the best planning teammates we could ask for. It was a long road getting here, and I'm not just referring to the number of times we all had to talk Min out of eloping."

"In her defense, you do have a tendency to go a little bridezilla, love. Hats off to Min for sticking it out, though. And to Remus for making her." Ginny grinned in their direction. "Right, I get to start. So, I've always admired Hermione, and I'm not just saying that because she bagged the hottest professor we've ever had. Remus even beat out that prat Lockhart in the Gryffindor crush rankings. Seriously, if I wasn't a flaming - "

"Oh, my God," Hermione muttered, putting her head in her hands as the tips of Remus's ears turned pink and Ron said, "You just had to go and make it weird, didn't you?"

"It's my toast, Ronald," she replied sharply. "Anyway, as I was saying, Min's the best big sister I could ask for, and believe me, it got lonely with six brothers. In addition to being one of the kindest and most determined people I know, she's also the smartest, though I don’t think that’s a surprise to anyone here. Her ridiculous brain saved my life back in First Year - while she was petrified in a hospital bed, no less - and she and the boys taught me quite a bit of what I know about dueling. Plus, she always helped me with my Arithmancy homework, and she gave me the best relationship advice I've ever gotten, which was to be myself. And I missed her terribly while she was gone, but when she came back, she was still the same Hermione I've always loved and looked up to."

Ginny glanced at Remus. "Even though she's never let us teach her flying, she takes my side in every Quidditch argument. More loyalty than a Hufflepuff, this one. You're a lucky man, Lupin."

"Oh, I know." He tugged Hermione into his side and wrapped his arm around her as she smiled at Ginny.

Dora took over with an unrepentant grin. "Hi, everyone! If you thought the whole hot for teacher bit was awkward, now you get to hear from the ex-wife."

Remus sighed. "Why do I feel like this entire stretch of the evening is going to involve people taking the piss out of me?"

"Because you're such an easy target?" Dora offered. "Tall and built. All that surface area."

"I'm not going to point out that I told you so," Hermione said with a wry twist of her lips. "But don't worry, Ces'll talk you up and make me wish I never invited him."

"And we're all family here anyhow, if not by blood or marriage then by school and the Order," Dora reassured him as Cesare chortled. "I think everyone's gotten over the scandal of age gap relationships and divorce by now. In case anyone missed the memo, no homes were wrecked. Not even a peep in the papers! But I want to go back a few years before that. Picture it: London, 1996. War's been on a year. A young Auror becomes smitten with a handsome werewolf in the course of Order duties."

"It'd be more romantic if it had been a war film and not the absolute - ahem, cluster - it all was in real life," she continued with a shrug. "But anyway, I remember this Gryffindor with a big brain and entirely too much hair bugging us for dueling lessons in between battles and me trying to talk Remus into walking me down the aisle. She had a hand in convincing him, too. Fast forward a couple years and one secret wedding later, and someone was insane enough to just, like, _let_ Remus and me become parents without any oversight whatsoever - really, we need to look into refining the approval process for that, Kingsley. Thank Merlin Teddy came out perfect on day one, because, whew, that could have gone badly."

"You're a wonderful mum," Teddy interjected with a laugh and a shake of his head. "And dad's pretty okay, too."

"You're biased, kid." Dora shot Remus a suspicious look. "Maybe we did screw something up. I feel like 13-year-olds are supposed to be more rebellious and ornery than this. Especially with my genes."

Remus shrugged and ruffled Teddy's turquoise hair. "Safer not to question it."

"You're probably right. Anyway, Min was the best godmum we could have asked for - seriously, would have died of sleep deprivation that first year without this woman. When she left, I'd just gotten around to realizing that being best friends and parents and former battle buddies made for a wonderful relationship, but probably not the kind of relationship Remus and I each deserved. He's also more loyal than a Hufflepuff, though, so it took me a while to talk him 'round. Gin and I got together a couple of years after, but Remus - well, honestly, Remus. I love him, but he’s picky."

Hermione cackled with laughter as everyone else did, until Remus tugged her hair. She gave him a look that was only somewhat apologetic, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"And good thing, too, because that meant he was still on the market two years ago when he started dodging my phone calls all of a sudden. I figured he'd finally found someone and I'd have to duel him for the details. But when he told me a few months later than not only had he found someone but he'd found our Hermione, and not only was she alive and well and coming home but she was also a perfect fit for his _many_ ideal qualities in a partner _and_ willing to put up with him for more than one date - well, these two are proof that magic is real, and I'm not talking about the kind that requires a wand."

"So, anyway, all that is to say - I'm not convinced you two are even capable of fighting, but just so we're clear, Remus, we're on Min's side when you do," Dora added. "Still love both of you, though."

"Ditto." Hermione stood to hug them as Remus chuckled.

After some brief, heartfelt words from Ron, Cesare took the stage.

"I want it noted that I deserve whiskey for sitting through this," she said _sotto voce_ , downing more champagne. 

"Much thanks to the lovely Ginny and Dora, and to Jacob, for helping us bring this weekend together. And to Remus for agreeing to let us and dragging Hermione along."

"It's been a pleasure getting to know Hermione's longtime friends this weekend. And we're all aware of the elephant in the room - we don't ask about her time away. But as the one who was there for it, I'm going to talk a little bit without touching on anything too secret," he said with a conspiratorial grin. "To borrow Dora's words - picture it: 1999, an undisclosed location somewhere in Europe. Back then, my job was to teach people stuff, and they send me this mousy little girl with somewhat tamer hair. Youngest student I've had by five years, thinks she knows everything, aggravates the hell out of me from jump."

He shot Hermione a fond look. "Except she actually wants to learn, and she's good at it. She does know almost everything - and she steals my heart, platonically speaking, while I'm teaching her the rest. Goes on to do amazing things that I can't tell you about, but anyway, she keeps me around after I leave the job. Back in the day, one of my primary duties was arranging her - ahem - dates."

"You could make it sound less like I was a hooker, Ces.”

"Not like that. Nothing untoward," he assured the audience with a wink. "Just, you know, a bit of security, wielding the Beater's bat - anyway, she has a strict Muggle-only rule, but our mutual friend Ryan tells me there's this wizard that would be just perfect for her. So I talk with the guy, keep him in the back of my mind. About eight months later - that is, two years and - " He cast Temporus. "20 hours ago, she calls me at the last minute and says she has a free weekend. I have to remind her I'm not a booty call service."

"There are children present!" Hermione hissed.

"They've heard worse from you, you foulmouthed vixen," he replied as she rolled her eyes. "So, first thing in the morning, I call Remus and do my best to sell him on the strangest blind date he’ll ever have. He's a gentleman about it all. I send her the details and I'm going about my business when 7pm rolls around and she calls me in a panic because I set her up with the one wizard in France she already knows. And I talk her off a ledge and into staying because, despite the complicating factors, I can hear in her voice how much she wants to. People, when I say she's the most self-sacrificing person I've ever met in my life - it was about time she did something _she_ wanted to do."

"I'll leave the rest of the story for Remus to tell." He smiled at the two of them. "But I just want to say how grateful I am that serendipity - and Ryan's matchmaking skills - brought these two together. Not only because she's a handful and a half and now she gets to be someone else's problem," he teased. "But because I love this woman to bits, and it's a gift to finally see her happy, with someone who cares as much about her as I do."

Amid the collective awws and clapping, Hermione shot Cesare a soft, secret smile and Remus shook his hand, trying to tamp down his own nerves before he set the Sonorus.

He started by thanking everyone who had made the day possible. "And I owe thanks to Hermione's parents, though they can't be here, as well as Minerva for keeping her head on straight while she was trying to study herself to death. I'd thank Harry and Ron for getting her through all those scrapes they had as students, but let's be honest, it was always Min pulling the two of them out of the fire. Usually by doing the impossible and highly illegal. I can say that in front of all these Aurors and Ministry officials now because it's statute-barred," he added with a grin.

Hermione shook her head with a laugh as Remus continued. "At most weddings, the aisle is split by the bride's family and the groom's. In our case, our lives were intertwined long before we ever approached anything romantic, and I'm grateful you're all here for both of us. In 1993, while we were living under the worst anti-werewolf legislation to date and I was barely holding onto a job at Hogwarts thanks to Albus, Hermione guessed my secret. She could have outed me and the Governors would have tossed me out, but even at 14 she had more of a sense of justice and compassion than anyone I've met. Doesn't always line up with the law - there was the bit at the end of that school year where she rescued my best friend from a second stint in Azkaban with the creative use of a Time Turner, for example - but as we all saw on Friday, when the law's wrong, she'll go to any lengths to subvert or change it," he said, giving her a look of pride as a faint blush colored her cheeks.

"During the war, we became friends over tea and dueling lessons. Fought a lot of battles together back then, too, and she and the boys were wonderful godparents. I wasn't as good of a friend as I should have been that first year after, though."

She frowned and reached to squeeze his hand.

"I regret not being there for you when you needed me, Min," he added, squeezing back. "I think I speak for all of us when I say she left a gaping hole behind. And although she can't share her reasons, I know they were good, so that's not to fault her - only to say how much we loved and missed her. Ron and I searched, but after two years I accepted that we would never find her."

"Dammit. I'm not a crier - except, apparently, at my own wedding," he said with an impatient brush at his cheeks as Hermione kept hold of his other hand, stroking his palm. "Anyway, two years ago, Ces calls me far too early in the morning to ask if I'd be interested in a last-minute date. I’d already handed over everything but my soul to meet his safety requirements, but I wasn’t allowed to know anything about her. I'm bored and curious, though, so I agree to meet at this Italian place down the street from my house. When I walk in, I see this pretty little slip of a witch, but when I introduce myself I notice she's Occluding to an extreme level. She all but runs out of the restaurant, and I'm thinking, surely they warned her in advance that I'm an old werewolf. I did send a picture. I'm not _that_ ugly, am I?"

Hermione's eyes were wet when he glanced down, but she gave him a playful nudge.

"Comes back in ten minutes later and now that she's not shielding so hard I can tell she's terrified. There's something about her scent that I can't put my finger on. She sits down and stumbles over her words for long enough that I'm doubting everything's on the up and up until she swaps to English and tells me who she is. I can't even sense the glamor she's wearing, so I ask verification questions, but I don't need them. Because I recognize that lovely Surrey accent. And I'd know the smell of oranges and guilt anywhere."

His voice broke and he paused for a second, swallowing hard. "So I'm teasing her about her questionable taste in men when she admits to having had a crush on me once. And in my head I'm wondering if it's tempting fate to hope she still has a crush on me," he added with a quirk of his lips. "Because the stakes just went up. I've either got to make this the best date she's ever been on and earn a second, or I'm going to prison for kidnapping."

She cracked up laughing along with everyone else, her voice thick with emotion. "It was a fabulous date."

He smiled at her before he looked back up at the crowd. "I'm not the praying sort, but that day was nothing short of a miracle. Thank God she didn't get my name from Cesare before she showed up. Thank God Ces talked her out of walking away. Thank God she did grant me a second date - and a third, and a fourth, and it was then that she told me she would come back to me - to all of us. And thanks to Cesare and Ryan for not only playing matchmaker but also ensuring she survived ten years of hell to make it home. But most of all, thank you, Min, for everything you've given me from the first moment we met on the Hogwarts Express to this one. And you've given me everything."

When he sat back down during the applause, she leaned into him and whispered, "I love you, Remus Lupin."

"Whew! Now that we've all put our hankies to good use, we've got one more to go, I think," Cesare said, his eyes crinkling as he glanced at Hermione.

She kissed Remus's cheek before she pulled away, and he followed her with a curious gaze. She'd told him she planned to skip the toast - which wasn't a surprise, given how anxious these kinds of things made her, and it wasn't traditional for the bride and groom to participate anyhow. Instead of standing at the table, though, she walked down and rounded the end of it to stand on the dance floor before she cast the Sonorous.

"We all know I hate public speaking. But even though I'm not quite so eloquent when it comes to telling you, I love you all so much, and it means a lot to me that you're here for us. Ron, somehow you're still putting up with me after all these years, thanks for that," she grinned. "I know Harry would be so happy for us, and for you and Sam. Cesare, Ryan, there aren't words for how much I owe you both. And tons of gratitude to Ces, Jacob, Ginny, and Dora for pulling this weekend off and being our biggest cheerleaders. Shoutout to the girls for teaming up with me to crush the guys at paintball on Friday, too," she added to scattered laughter.

"Um, you've all heard the first date story, so I won't talk your ear off about how terrifying and wonderful _that_ was. Instead I'll say that before I went away, hanging out at Dora and Remus's and spending time with Teddy were the brightest spots in a dark year. The day I left, Molly hosted that birthday memorial for Harry, and I spent my last few minutes holding Teddy and saying goodbye to him and Remus. Teddy, I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you like I should have been as your godmum, but I'm in awe of the person you've become."

Next to Remus, Teddy gave her one of his rare beaming smiles. He came around the table to hug her, and she cancelled the charm for a moment to whisper something to him before he darted off.

"Okay, right," she said as she put the charm back up. "Remus spilled my deep dark secret at the engagement party, and I've got something to say to him, so even though I don't do this in front of people, here we are. Last thank you goes to Bill and Teddy for making sure I don't have to go it alone," she added as Bill joined her and Teddy returned holding her guitar.

Remus's eyebrows shot up somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. Teddy had studied piano for years with Bill, who was the resident Weasley musical prodigy. He'd talked Hermione into guitar lessons at Christmas, too, but both of them were far too shy to play for an audience - at their engagement party, Remus nearly had to order her to accompany him, and she came close to refusing. While he was busy getting over his shock, the trio retreated to the area set up for the band, Teddy occupying the piano while Bill sat at the drums. Hermione stood between them, and she gave his son an encouraging nod.

He sat back in his chair, running his hand over his beard as Teddy began to play. After a few moments Hermione joined in the gentle melody with just her voice as she held Remus in her amber gaze.

_A dark space, a shelter to hide in, to drift by_   
_Honest, I_   
_Never thought you'd find me where I hide_   
_I'm such a lonely ghost, keep you in view_   
_Let you close, then I'll choke_   
_Is there a simple hope to keep?_

Though her voice and the rhythm were light, almost flirtatious, the poetic lyrics held both the fear and the love he knew she held deeply but often struggled to express. His heart felt too large for his chest. With the next verse, Bill and Hermione joined Teddy's instrumentals, playing quietly at first.

_Steady breath, finger on a loose gun_   
_A thin line, can't take aim_   
_No target to lock to, to hold on_   
_But if you love someone_   
_Do you owe the sound to the wild around you?_   
_Is an unspoken love dark soil in my soul?_

Remus had to blink back tears again as Hermione glanced at Teddy and Bill, their music growing fuller, resounding. When she picked up the chorus, her eyes returned to his.

_My love, a sharp knife, a cold night_   
_A young fit in a wildfire_   
_A silence surrounded in white noise_   
_Your love beat against my own leaves_   
_A new flame for molding_   
_A cleansing, refining_

It was an echo of her wedding vow to him - something she hadn't told him before, that she treasured how their relationship transformed her. The words wound around his heart, along with the unbridled joy on her face and his son's as they joined Bill in riffing for a minute or so before she repeated the chorus. The instruments dissipated just after her voice did, but he barely heard the raucous applause.

"Music was not one of the things I taught her," Cesare said when he stood again and hugged Hermione. "But she's amazing at it. And now that everyone's full of cake and bubbly, we can commence the dancing."

As Remus joined her on the floor and the band started playing the strings of "Hold My Hand," she threw her head back, laughing. "Hootie and the Blowfish? Really?"

"You did say anything I wanted. I could have picked Celine Dion. Or the Spice Girls."

She made a face. "Nope, this works. I'm glad we have the same taste in rock. It's appropriately sweet without being vomit-inducing."

"Oh, good. I'm relieved it meets your high expectations," he grinned, spinning her under his arm. "Not as lovely as what you just sang for me, though."

When she returned to the circle of his embrace, she was blushing. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank _you_ , little one." He cupped her cheek and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. "My brave, sweet girl."

"Less kissing, more dancing!"

Dora's teasing voice made him realize they'd been joined by others, and he smirked and kissed Hermione again before dipping her. Dizzy with exhilaration, she beamed at him, her eyes glittering. She still wasn't the most confident with this, but they'd danced together enough by now that she'd learned how to abandon her self-consciousness and let him lead. He kept hold of her for two more songs, just to watch the way her hair and her dress fanned out around her when she twirled.

When he relinquished her to dance with Teddy, she reluctantly let him disentangle their fingers. No one had ever craved his closeness the way she did. She loved her work and spending time with their friends, but given the chance, she preferred having his arms around her. And he loved feeling her near.

But watching her dance with Teddy and then the girls was fun, too. He took Minerva's hand, and she blessedly did not give him the overprotective mother lioness routine, but seemed rather happy for them. After a round with Poppy, though, he adjourned to the corner of the platform where Cesare and Ryan were holding court.

They caught up for a while and talked about workshops and upcoming events for the dungeon, but when they brought out the cigars, Remus's gaze found Hermione on the dance floor, finishing up a song with Neville. He didn't even have to crook a finger.

"Do you have some kind of sixth sense?" he asked when she made it over, flushed and breathless, her hair a halo around her face.

"Years of anticipatory service," she said with a slight shrug, tugging a chair over next to him and sitting down as she cast impervius charms on their clothing. They both liked the occasional scent of smoke, but it was hell to get out of formal wear. Laughter sprang up around the table as she added, "And you get this particularly predatory look in your eye when there are cigars around. Even more so since I started taking ash. It's hot."

Her trauma with burns had kept them from doing anything in that arena in the beginning, but she'd wanted to be able to enjoy ash play, and over time and with therapy she'd gotten to the point of being comfortable with it recently. Unfortunately, it was more suited for home or the dungeon patio than a mixed crowd.

Jacob lent Hermione his kit so she wouldn't have to go back inside and she held Remus's gaze as she cut and wet his cigar, turning toward him and away from the floor to do some very inappropriate things to it with her tongue. He went marble hard watching her - not only because of the act, but because of the devotion behind it. She made service into an art. She toasted the stick, rolling it between her fingers as the flame flickered just far enough from the wrapper not to singe it, and then lit it and did a test draw to make sure it burned perfectly before she offered it to him in her open palms.

"Thank you, kitten." He tucked a curl behind her ear before he accepted it from her hands.

"You're welcome, sir.” She smiled shyly at him as she handed the kit back to Jacob.

The crowd had begun to thin out and their corner was distant enough that the five of them could talk without being overheard. He let Hermione cuddle into his side as he took a puff of the earthy Padron. She laid her head on his shoulder and he could tell she was content just to be close as the conversation washed over her. She never felt comfortable in crowds, and this much social interaction drained her, even though she loved their friends. And it had been a long day.

After a while, though, he slipped a hand beneath her hair to discreetly grip the back of her neck and tug her up. He took a draw of the cigar and then sealed his mouth to hers, keeping hold of her while he gave her the smoke, caressing her tongue with his own until they both tasted of the notes of cocoa and spice in it. She shivered as a quiet moan rose from her throat, swallowed in the kiss.

"Fucking hell," she breathed when he let her go.

He brushed his lips along her cheek and against her ear. "You'd better go enjoy the rest of the party while you can, little one. Because in less than an hour, I'm carrying you over that threshold and taking you upstairs to have my way with you."

"Yes, sir." The murmur was punctuated with a whimper.

Before she stood, he set the cigar down and cupped her cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispering, "I love you, Min."

"I love you, too." When she met his eyes, he saw the edge of lust there, but also the deep devotion, the care, the adoration. It bowled him over; it always did. His little slave - his _wife_ \- held his heart in her hands, and he wasn't sure she even knew the power she had over him. She just pecked his cheek, darting around the table to hand out hugs like candy, and then went off to dance.


	6. i grab and hold on tight

_You can count on it, I’m where you left me_   
_I can count on you to show me the way_   
_We can keep it light, we’re going somewhere_   
_I won’t try to fight it, don’t feel like it_   
_In your skin, in your hair, I’m tangled up_   
_In my head, in my mind, I can’t get out_   
_When you twist and you turn, teach me to run_   
_I grab and hold on, I grab and hold on tight_

flor, “hold on”

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Hermione didn’t protest when Remus carried her over the threshold.

She used to protest his fondness for carrying her in the beginning. Grateful her dress wasn’t bulky, he slid an arm behind her shoulders and knees, and as he lifted her she didn’t even tense the way she would when she wanted to protest but her obedience outweighed her discomfort. She just wound her arms around his neck and cuddled into him like she never wanted to be anywhere else, breathing a sigh of contentment that made his heart swell.

He let her find her feet once he made it up the stairs, standing behind her in the middle of their bedroom. “Shoes off.” He brushed her hair forward, and once she stepped out of the heeled sandals he’d barely glimpsed earlier, he feathered kisses along her shoulders, unzipping the dress and sliding it down slowly to bare her to his gaze. As she stepped out of it, he set it aside carefully.

She melted into him when his arms came around her from behind. He kissed the top of her head, running his hands over her abdomen. She wore an insubstantial scrap of storm-gray lace that could hardly be called a bra, more for adornment than support, with matching panties and a lace belt suspending silk stockings.

“I’m not sure those cover enough to qualify as panties, but you’re so lovely, little one.” It came out a whisper, and he stroked her breasts gently, her breath hitching as he grazed her nipples through the thin fabric. Her head fell back against his chest and her back arched as she sought more of his touch. “We’re going to do some things tonight that might make you a bit uncomfortable, and some things we haven’t tried before. It’s okay if you’re shy, and you’ll tell me if you’re triggered, but you’re not to give into your self-consciousness. You’re mine to do with as I please. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” She shivered as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. “I thought you liked making me self-conscious.”

“Oh, you're cute when you're shy, and humiliating you until you’re an incoherent puddle is one of my favorite hobbies. I don’t like the kind of self-consciousness that makes you clam up and pull away from me. But you’re going to be my obedient girl tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, master.”

“Excellent,” he murmured, dipping his head so his warm breath brushed her ear, coaxing a whimper. He took his time undressing her, running his hands over her hips and down her legs, drawing mewls with his touch. “On the bed. Show me how much you’re aching.”

She climbed up on the four poster and settled on her hands and knees, laying her head on a pillow as she spread her legs and put her ass in the air. She never hesitated, but even after all this time, the position still made her blush - and made her wet as hell.

“Would you like me to tie your arms?” He ran his hands over her ass, dragging his nails along her skin with a light friction that elicited another shiver. When she shook her head, he said, “Legs wider, arch your back. I want you completely exposed, there’s a good girl.”

He took his time removing the vest and unbuttoning his collar, rolling his sleeves up to the elbow - both for comfort and because he knew she liked seeing him that way, liked the vulnerability of being naked while he stayed clothed. Once he’d slipped out of his own shoes and socks, he stood by her, going back to caressing her and leaving a trail of kisses down her back and along the top of her ass, surrounded by the sound of her quiet whimpers and the overwhelming fragrance of her arousal.

“You’re already wetting your thighs, little kitten. It won’t be long before you’re dripping on my bed.” He gave her hip a squeeze and ran a hand up her inner thigh. She shifted, seeking more contact, but he just slicked his fingers and moved further up the bed to offer them to her.

“You know, you haven’t given me grief about tormenting you since Monday night,” he said with a touch of amusement, running his hand through her curls as she moaned around his fingers and sucked them deep into her mouth. She was so sensitive and responsive that denial could be tricky, and he rarely tormented her for more than a day or two without letting her come. They shared the kink, but hers was more of a love/hate enjoyment, for obvious reasons. He’d been on the receiving end of many fond expletives over it. “Not a single snarky comment all week. Why is that?”

Her cheeks flamed and she closed her eyes tight as he retrieved his hand from her mouth, the sight bringing a smile to his face. He found her combination of shyness and depravity irresistible, not least because she was only ever like this with him. The shyness wasn’t a ploy - it was a demonstration that she felt safe enough with him not to armor against her feelings. He loved it, and he loved taking her apart piece by piece until she revealed the well of emotion and sensuality underneath.

“Have you enjoyed being denied for so long? It’s okay, sweet girl, you can tell me.”

She managed a nod, and he dropped down next to the bed so she could see him more clearly. “Open your eyes and tell me what excites you about it.”

She bit her bottom lip as she met his eyes, her cheek still resting against the pillow. “I - I love it when you make me suffer, sir. Even when I don’t like it,” she admitted with a slight quirk of her lips. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I like being at your mercy. And - “ She blushed a shade darker. “I like that it makes me ache for you even more, like I’m out of control. Sometimes I can’t think about anything but you.”

“Do you?” he murmured, still stroking her hair. “Do you like being my little nympho? Being wet and ready for me so much of the time, knowing I might just edge you and leave you aching no matter how sweetly you beg and cry?” 

She bit her lip harder and lowered her gaze with a quiet whimper, nodding.

Though he tormented her often, he kept mostly to edging her himself, reading the signs of her body and pulling away rather than making her try to hold back because it was difficult for her. Coming without permission - which rarely happened unless he forced her to - was an excuse to humiliate her more than a reason for punishment. More intense orgasm control sometimes toed the line of consensual non-consent, and it created a level of dependence he found desirable, but was also something he’d never wanted to push her into.

At least not until she gave him that look and turned such a fetching shade of red.

“Would you like it if I denied you more often, kitten? If I trained you to edge more, to hold back, and disciplined you for breaking the rules?”

The mere hitch of her breath was answer enough, but as he brushed his thumb against her bottom lip, she released it and whispered, “Yes, please.”

“Good.” He grazed her cheek with his fingertips. “We’ll talk more about that, but for right now, I only want you to wait a little longer. You’ve been such a good girl. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead again before moving behind her, drinking in the sight of her so ripe and open to him. “Messy girl. I’m going to make you soak this duvet through by the time I’m done with you, little slut.” She shuddered at the promise, and he ran his palms over her ass, giving her a smack that made her hips buck. “Tell me if you’re getting too close.”

“I will, I promise.”

As he knelt on the bed behind her, he read the apprehension in the lines of her shoulders that suggested she was still trying to work out what came next. He’d wanted to eat her ass ever since he discovered her penchant for anal, but she had deep hangups over it, so he let the matter drop. Mostly it was her trauma around reciprocating - something he didn’t want her to do, knowing she found it degrading, but it bothered her that she couldn’t. She still struggled with self-consciousness about receiving oral in general, and no one had done this for her before - not to mention, there was the taboo of it. Her eagerness for anal play was one of the easiest things to humiliate her over.

He brushed kisses over her silky skin, tracing the lines of her scars with his tongue and blowing over her wet pussy as she shivered. Nipping along her thighs made her toes curl. The moment he whispered a cleansing charm and nuzzled into her, though, she tensed and inhaled sharply. It pleased him that she didn’t disobey him by pulling away.

“It’s alright, kitten. Just relax,” he said in a low, soothing voice, anchoring her with gentle touches along her thighs. “Don’t get stuck in your head. Focus on that ache between your legs and let me make you feel good.”

She let go of some of the tension, exhaling a quiet moan and pressing back to him when he sunk his teeth into her cheek for a long moment and soothed the mark with his tongue. _There we go._ He was always careful not to break skin, full moon or no, but she loved being bitten. While she was caught up in the sensation, he shifted to flutter his tongue against the delicate skin of her perineum, tasting the sweetness of her arousal.

“Oh - “ Her hips shifted as she sought stimulation against her core with a breathy gasp, but he held her fast with his hands. He planned to head there next, but if he touched her right now she’d come in a second. Usually she couldn’t from anal stimulation alone, although it made her incredibly sensitive and led to some powerful orgasms. He wondered if that might change.

Little whimpers escaped her throat as he kept teasing her there, then she tensed again as the flat of his tongue drew up to her tight rosebud. His hand curled around her hip and he gave her reassuring strokes of his thumb, caressing the tender skin of her ass with light flicks of his tongue. As he laved her more thoroughly, drifting back and forth, she gasped again with a helpless moan.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed, drawing a chuckle from him that made her hiss as it reverberated through her. 

As he brushed his lips along her, his beard tickling her skin, a colorful string of curses escaped her. When she began straining to press back to him, he loosened his grip on her hips, only keeping his hand there as a reminder while he returned to tonguing her, more firmly this time. Her muscles relaxed as she sought more of his mouth, and he trailed his hands down the outside of her thighs and up the back of them, circling her opening with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, God, please - “

He pulled back enough to ask, “Please what, kitten?” He kept up the relentless stimulation with the gentle touch of his fingertips.

“Please fuck my ass, sir,” she begged. He knew she’d be flushed with humiliation, but she was too far gone to hold back, and it made him rock hard. “Please, I need you so badly. I want to come while you fuck my ass.”

“I can see that, you’re making quite a mess on my bed. You’re so gorgeous when you’re desperate to have your bottom filled. But it’s not time for that yet.” He petted her there as she breathed a frustrated moan. “Do you like having my mouth on you? Do you want more?”

She hesitated only a moment before she whispered, “Y - yes, please. It feels so good.”

“Good.” He spread her apart with his hands and brushed open-mouthed kisses against her most intimate spot before lapping softly at her again. As she moaned louder, he increased the pressure of his tongue and let the tip of it slip inside of her, caressing her tight opening with firm strokes.

A shudder rippled through her and she gasped. “Please, I’m so close, I can’t help it - “

She gave a little cry as he withdrew and ran his hands over her back and hips to calm her. “Shh, little kitten. You’ve done so good. Up with you, I want your hands on the headboard.”

“Yes, sir.” She rose from the pillow, shivering, and shifted closer to the head of the bed to kneel there and grip the wood.

He knelt behind her, hugging her and kissing her shoulder as he barely stroked her soaked slit, only enough to wet his fingers again. She jerked with a soft whimper that became a groan when he pressed a finger slowly into her ass.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Always so eager for me.” When he shifted to lay down and scooted up until he was beneath her, though, her thighs tensed and she gripped his finger more tightly. “Do you want more, little slut? Would you like to come with my fingers in your ass?”

She ground against his hand as he fucked her. “P - please, I need you.”

“Then I think you’d better relax.” He pressed another finger gently to her opening until she allowed it inside, letting her adjust as he kissed along her thighs, lapping up her juices. “I can see how much you ache for me. Your clit’s throbbing, isn’t it? Get down here and ride my face, kitten.” 

Though she didn’t pull away, her self-consciousness made her tense again, and she trembled with need and the effort of holding herself above him.

“Who owns this swollen, needy pussy?” he asked with a stern edge to his voice - to remind her of his rules, but mostly because he knew being reminded turned her on.

She whimpered. “You, sir.”

“And right now I want to bury my face in my slave and make her come. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. Might drown, but I’d die a happy man,” he teased, nipping at her thigh and beginning to thrust into her ass again. “Come here.”

When she relented, he drew his tongue along her center. She jerked again as he found her engorged clit, then gave a ragged cry when he sucked it into his mouth, coming all over his face after only a few moments. The climax dragged out as he kept fucking her, and she was shuddering too hard to try to squirm away when it ended, her breath coming in gasps.

He released her clit anyway, both to give her some relief from the sensitivity and so he could lap up the nectar still leaking from her core. She was so fucking sexy he’d nearly blown in his trousers. As his cock twitched, he curled his free hand around her hip again to steady her, casting a lubrication spell and working a third digit into her ass.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” It came out almost pained, but she rocked against his hand, taking him deep. When his tongue circled her clit, she swore, her body shaking. Pleading moans escaped her throat as he gave her tender licks while he fucked her, slower this time. He sensed it building, but when she was relaxed enough not to chase it, it was often as if the peak took her by surprise. After several minutes she cried out again, grinding herself on his face.

He drank her in with a growl, holding her tight and sinking his fingers deep inside until she stopped clenching. She shivered as he withdrew his hand and lifted her off of him by her hips, pulling her to sit in his lap. He was just about to speak a charm for his drenched face and beard when she attacked him with a deep kiss, suckling at his tongue and moaning into his mouth as she tasted herself on him.

He laughed quietly against her mouth. “Greedy girl.” When she drew back, she was blushing, but her eyes sparkled. He managed the charm then, holding her close. “I adore you when you’re needy, you’re much less inhibited. It’s lovely.”

She nuzzled her nose to his and kissed him again, snuggling in closer as he petted her. “Mm. Thank you for letting me come, sir.”

“Oh, thank you, kitten. You’re hot as fuck when you come on my face.” He nipped at her bottom lip, smiling when she tucked her head into his shoulder and carding a hand through her hair, reveling in her closeness and warmth. “How are you feeling?”

“Mm. Content. Wet. Like I’d love it if you’d properly consummate this marriage,” she added with a cheeky grin.

Another laugh rumbled through him and he dipped his head to graze the shell of her ear with his teeth. “I have a different kind of consummation in mind tonight. I’ll fuck you all you want this week, I promise.” The look she gave him was caught between pouting and curious, and it was cute as hell. “Do you want to take my come in your mouth first, precious girl?”

The pout disappeared in a heartbeat. “Yes, please.”

He sealed his lips to hers in a tender kiss, and he’d barely gotten to his third button when she took over for him, mewling into his mouth as his tongue curled around hers. He shrugged the dress shirt off and tossed it aside.

“It won’t take long, I’m afraid.” He stretched out as he let her go, watching her settle herself between his legs. He hadn’t planned on coming tonight, but his cock disagreed with his head on the level of urgency, and the next bit would require patience. “Something about drowning in your pussy turns me into a 16-year-old boy.”

She giggled as she divested him of his trousers and boxers, brushing her lips along his inner thighs. “I’m tucking that away for future reference, your self-control drives me mad.” He caught the mischief in her gaze for a moment before she dipped her head to leave open-mouthed kisses along his shaft.

He growled as she took his balls into her mouth and stroked him with her hands, his hips bucking involuntarily. After a few moments he pulled her up by her hair until she lapped up the precum beading at the head.

She gave a pleading whimper, meeting his gaze again, adoration in her own as she begged, “Please, sir, I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Is that right, little slut?” He stroked her cheek. “Ass in the air. I want to watch you touch yourself while I feed you my cock, but you’re not to come yet. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” 

When she complied, he tangled his hand in her hair, savoring her needy sounds and the feeling of her warm, wet mouth as she hollowed her cheeks and took him deep with each stroke. He pulsed against her tongue as she painted his cock with enthusiasm, the sight of her hips writhing against her hand making his balls clench. Her moans hummed against his shaft as he fucked her more roughly for several minutes.

“Goddamn, Min,” he panted when she took him into her throat. “That’s it, take it all. Don’t spill a drop.” 

He growled her name and came violently, a deep shudder rippling through him as his seed spilled down her throat. He released her so he wouldn’t hurt her, but she stayed down on him, sucking him until he was spent. She pulled back with a gasp, catching her breath and licking him clean while the aftershocks worked their way through his body. She nuzzled his thigh until he murmured, “Come here, kitten.”

She started to curl up against him, but he rolled onto his side and laid her on her back, brushing her hair from her face while he caught his breath. Tracing the curve of her jaw, he trailed soft kisses over her eyelids and her flushed cheeks still teary from the exertion. As he nuzzled into her neck and continued the path over her shoulder, she tilted her head to allow him more access, whimpering when he used it to wrap his hand around her throat. He squeezed until she quivered, then stroked her skin with his fingertips, his mouth finding her ear.

“Who do you belong to, Hermione?”

“You, master.”

The whisper drew a smile from him. His mouth found her nipple and he ran his hand over her torso in a tender caress. She whimpered again when he sucked the little bud and swirled his tongue around it, arching her back with a quiet moan as he grazed it with his teeth. His fingertips trailed over her hip and down her thigh, walking up the inside as her legs parted for him, and she shivered at the touch. Flicking his tongue against her nipple, he traced abstract patterns on the still-wet skin of her thighs until her hips rocked against empty air, seeking more.

He shifted to kneel between her legs, taking her other nipple into his mouth and humming against it, dragging his nails lightly up the inside of her thigh. She whispered desperate pleas until he gave her two fingers. She was so wet and open to him that they slid in easily, and he lifted his head to watch her eyes flutter closed as she canted her hips.

“You don’t have to hold back anymore, little one. I want you to focus on how it feels to have my fingers inside of you.” He gave her another, with firm thrusts as she clenched around him, her climax quickly overtaking her. “Good girl. Just like that.”

She trembled for a few moments, spreading wider with a helpless moan as he kept stroking her, slow and gentle. When she wound her arms around his neck, meeting his eyes, he nuzzled his nose to hers and kissed her. As he twisted his hand, fucking her differently than usual, pressing against her walls, she breathed a gasp that turned into another moan.

“Do you like that?” he murmured against her lips. At her nod, he spoke the lubrication charm again, feeling it mix with her juices and coat his fingers.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked, the words broken as her breath caught. He’d only ever used it on her ass, and her puzzled, incredulous tone amused him. “Think I may have achieved your goal of soaking through the duvet already.”

He chuckled and nipped at her neck, fluttering his tongue against her pulse. “Not quite yet. Knees up, little one.” When she complied, he thrust deeper, massaging her inner walls while she quivered around him. “Have you ever been fisted, Min?”

“Excuse me?” The alarm that broke through her fog of arousal drew another chuckle, and he brushed his lips against her brow.

“I’ll take that as a no.” His lips quirked as he watched her try to string words together while her inner muscles twitched around his fingers. Her clit would be throbbing for his touch again. “I’m not going to hurt you, kitten. If it’s too much, you tell me and I'll back off.”

“Seems ambitious." She whimpered, writhing with need, unable to grind on his fingers well now without leverage. As he curved his hand to give her a fourth, she shuddered. “Holy fuck, Remus. I don’t - I don’t think I can - ”

“We’ll only go as far as you can take. I could happily stay just like this all night.” He nuzzled her breasts, still fucking her with gentle strokes while she adjusted to the stretch. “Breathe for me. You’re doing so good. I know you’re aching again, aren’t you?” He lifted his head to see her nod as she bit her lip. “There’s no rush. How does this feel?”

“G - good.” Her breath stuttered as she held his gaze, and he felt her trust in him down to his bones. He traced her cheek reverently with his free hand, murmuring encouragement, stroking her for several minutes before he pulled out just enough to curl his thumb behind his palm. 

She didn’t feel the difference at first, not until he sunk to the second knuckle, and then she gasped and her nails dug into his shoulders. He didn’t push further, just continued working in and out of her to that point, touching her in ways he never had before. He could tell by the look in her eyes and the way she clung to him that she wanted to be held - that the angle made it impossible was the one thing he disliked about this. She tangled her hand in his hair and he tilted his head to brush his lips against her arm.

He savored the sounds she made, learning them anew, enraptured by her expression. He could feel her unraveling, but she trembled in the slight way she often did when she was on the edge and the sensation was so intense she couldn't come, like she had an unconscious fear of letting go. Her amber gaze was flecked with gold and bare to him, devoted, surrendered - but also awash in the overwhelming emotions she’d carried all week. They were held at bay by the remnants of the walls she automatically put up around others, even without Occlumency. It made him long to open her up.

“It’s alright, little one,” he whispered, reaching up to rest his free hand against her throat, gentle and possessive. “You can let me in. I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

“Please, master - “ Her voice shook with emotion, and as he brought his hand down to stroke her clit, she came apart with a string of soft cries. The intense waves dragged out when he slid the rest of the way inside and settled wrist-deep. He kept still then, watching the tears spill and another orgasm follow before the first had even finished working its way through her body.

She shivered and cried and came for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes. The sight stole his breath. Cesare was right; he did worship her, and he’d do anything, give anything for the privilege of making her happy, and for the privilege that she trusted him with this. When she finally settled, he pressed his lips to her sternum.

“How do you feel, love?”

A watery laugh escaped her. “Um, d - do you know how you tease me about wanting to - to crawl inside your skin?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, thinking of the times she clung to him and buried her face in him like she needed him more than oxygen. Many were after intense scenes like this. He loved feeling her so close.

“It’s - it’s like that. Better. Like you’re part of me.” She said it with awe, and as she ran her fingertips along the scars on his cheek he realized with a flicker of surprise that she wasn’t the only one who’d cried.

He leaned into her touch. “You know, my goal tonight wasn’t to strip you of your self-consciousness, and it wasn’t to make you soak the duvet. It wasn’t even to get my hand all the way inside of you, though I’m proud of you for managing all three.” 

He could tell how difficult it was for her to speak, and at her curious glance, he continued, “My goal was to see this look on your face. The one where it’s like I’m so deep in you, you feel things you usually can’t let yourself. Like I’ve touched something you didn’t know was there.” Another smile tugged at his mouth. “And I don’t even need to be inside of you to see it - every now and then it happens when I take my lash to you, or my rope, or when I remind you that I own your need and your shame. It’s sacred to me, Min. You’re sacred.”

“I love you,” she whispered in the way that meant so much more than only that.

“I know.” He stroked her hip tenderly. “Do you want more, precious girl?”

“Y - yes, please.”

“My pretty little hedonist.” He slowly curled his fingers around his thumb and she breathed a slew of curses as her walls tightened around him at the shift in sensation. “Too much?”

“It’s - it’s a lot. But I love the pressure, the fullness. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, but I’m not going to move much, not this time.” She was so tight he hadn’t been sure she'd be able to take his whole hand in the first place, and the feeling was overstimulating enough without needing to fuck her, he could tell. He had a feeling there’d be enough repeat performances that they’d get around to it one day. “Rest your legs on my shoulders, little one.”

She did and he made love to her with his mouth while she quivered and clenched around his fist, savoring the sweet moans that escaped her throat when he grazed her nipples with his teeth and kissed and licked over her torso and thighs. After a while she begged for more, begged him to make her come again, and he blew on her clit as she trembled and gasped. Laving the little bud with slow strokes, he listened to her plead until she couldn’t form the words anymore, and when he sucked it into his mouth and gave his hand a slight, gentle twist, she uttered a sharp cry and squirted over his arm and the bed.

“That’s my good girl.” He murmured praise and worked his hand out of her carefully while she came down, cleansing himself and the bed as he gathered her into his embrace and covered them both. “Shh, I’ve got you. I won’t let go.”

By now he had plenty of practice getting his arms around her as soon as possible, and he held her tight while she buried her face in his neck, her shoulders shaking. Her crying calmed as the hummingbird flutter of her heart did, once it attuned with his. He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. “I love you so much, Hermione.”

His skin muffled her answer. Though they were both loathe to move, he carried her to the bath and back to bed, making sure she drank water and took a mild pain potion for the soreness she’d feel in the morning. Once that was taken care of, he let her curl up in his arms again and whispered a spell to extinguish the low lights as he ran a soothing hand through her hair, over and over. She went liquid against him from the familiar comfort of his touch and the way her tears and their activities had wrung every last bit of tension out of her small frame. 

He remembered well enough a time when she couldn’t fully relax and open up like this no matter what he did. He never took it for granted.

Sleep found her after a few minutes, but he stayed awake to watch her for as long as he could, memorizing the weight and warmth of her in his arms, how her citrus and honey scent filled his every cell, the exact cadence of her breathing.


End file.
